Code Geass: Now and Forever
by Toph the Trickster
Summary: Lelouch is dead and the requiem has been completed, but things have yet to come full circle. The world is in chaos and C.C.'s time to rise to duty's call has come.
1. Prologue

I'm Back!

I sincerely apologize, especially to those that had been waiting on NaF, and CG:tPW.

This story, as the title suggests, is a remake of my first fic: Now and Forever (NaF).

The main reason for such a remake was the quality of my work, a detail that I noticed as I was reading through the past chapters of the story. The plot development was rather slow, and certain things that did not make sense, even to me.

This story is, essentially, going to follow the same plot, or lack thereof.

Expect OC's and other things.

Also, a mild warning:

There _might_ be slight ooc-ness on part of certain characters, especially on the part of our favorite demon. Most pairning will remain the same as the original fic, and AU elements beginning with the last episode.

This version of the story will also contain some pro-Charles spects.

You have been warned.

Enjoy.

Sincerely,

_**Toph the Trickster**_

* * *

**Code Geass: Now and Forever**

_Prologue:_

**A Parade of Souls; No Rest for the Wicked**

"_Peace is a sham,_

"_Just like every other ideal that the cretins of this world breed._

"_Only the Truth is absolute, it will remain forever there, staring the human fools in the face._

"_But that doesn't mean that the comprehension of such a concept is as constant as it ought to be."_

_-_Charles zi Britannia

~TtT~

_Location: Britannian Imperial Palace, Tokyo, Japan_

_Estimated Date / Timeline: October 5__th__, One week before the execution of the Instigators of the Damocles Rebellion_

_Estimated Time: 6:57pm_

Light shone through the stained glass windows of the Britannian Imperial throne room, amplifying the, already, forbidding air that the place produced; shadows lined the walls, dancing as the many candles, which illuminated the portraits of past emperors, let out their eerie glow.

At the center of the empty room's attention, were to men, one dressed in white, black, red, and gold, the other dressed in a different combination of the same colors.

"Suzaku," the black-haired man, better known as Lelouch vi Britannia, told his compatriot: "You shall be the one to take my life, as I promised you."

"Lelouch…" the person being spoken to: the brown-haired Kururugi Suzaku, stared at the object held in Lelouch's left hand, began. "Are you absolutely sure about this?" the, presumed diseased, knight asked the monarch with furrowed eyebrows.

The emperor responded with a scoff and a smirk, raising an eyebrow as he replied to his knight: "As intended, the world's hatred is now focused on me;" the teenage sovereign flicked his left hand, sending the mask flying in his friend's direction. "There is, now, no other source of unity on this planet that is greater than that hatred." He added when the Japanese knight caught the helmet with the latter's right hand.

Lelouch turned to the court, walking forward, until he came before the symbol of his nation: the lion and the snake; the royal raised a hand to his eyes, passing over the purple lenses once.

"And, with my elimination," he raised his right hand to the side. "The chain will break." He turned to face the knight, the former's eyes closed, but, somehow, still gesturing to the mask Suzaku held in his hand. "The Black Knights will have the legend, Zero, and Schneizel will work as planned.

"And the world can be united at one table, not by military might, but by talks, and negotiation." This was shortly followed by a scoff from the emperor, the odd action causing Suzaku to stare at his superior quizzically.

Despite the fact that the monarch could feel the stare through his closed eyes, Lelouch continued: "The world can now embrace the future." The Demon King sent the Knight of Zero a feral grin:

"And thus ends the Zero Requiem."

The dictator chuckled lightly before asking his friend: "Suzaku, What do you think of wishes?" the statement was then followed by another laugh.

Not even bothering to wait for an answer, the emperor spoke: "There are things in this world that we are not capable of achieving on our own." Lelouch strode forward, climbing the steps to the throne with ease, despite the fact that his eyes were still closed. "A Geass works in a similar manner, helping us get what we would, normally, not be able to obtain."

Lelouch vi Britannia then gestured to the stained glass window that was placed behind the throne, bringing specific attention to the roaring, red-skinned, purple-eyed, Arch Demon, which was clad in black and purple Imperial regalia, and his axe bared with both hands.

"And so a deal with the devil himself shall bring, to this world, the tomorrow that it so desires."

Suzaku kept his gaze trained on the demon in the glass, taking in the sight of its elongated fangs, dagger-like claws, and its long, black horns. The knight knew _exactly_ who the demon represented.

"But first," the emperor began, breaking the knight's reverie: "Let us, first take care of some loose ends." Lelouch snapped the fingers of his left hand.

The demon's purple eyes glowed a shade of electric blue as an inverted crane emblazoned itself where the irises should have been, and energy scattered across the whole room, before dissipating as the demon's eyes turned purple once more.

~TtT~

Suzaku felt it, the strange feeling that came over him as the energy from the glass demon's eyes touched him.

It felt odd, like a lock to a cabinet being broken, as an outside will was purged of his subconscious.

It was then that he felt it:

_The geass command._ Suzaku's eyes widened at the though that plagued him next:

_I-i-it's been removed._

The implications came shortly afterward:

_No longer bound to life, no longer forced to live, allowing me to face death willingly, without fear, without the unstoppable compulsion to remain with the living. _Suzaku smiled, staring at his hands as the thoughts continued to come: _I-I I can die! I can see Euphie again; Join her in death when the time comes! _He turned to thank the emperor.

"The Geass Canceller; Lelouch, thank y-." he stopped.

Why?

For, before the Knight of Zero, now Zero the Second, stood the Demon King, the latter's eyes now open, the twin crane sigils of his, fully-matured, Geass staring the latter's successor in the face.

"Lelouch vi Britannia, the Demon King, commands you, Kururugi Suzaku…"

There was nothing the knight could do, but stare in horror as the command settled in, the broken drawer repaired, and given a new secret to hold.

And there was nothing the knight could do about it.

* * *

And that ends the prologue for the rewrite of NaF.

_**Questions:**_

What do you think of the way the main / only scene of the prologue was developed? Was the transition between movements, actions, and words smooth?

Also, what do you suppose this main AU element will entail?

_**Announcement:**_

Question, clarifications, and what not can be asked via review or PM. (just in case there would be anything you might want to know about any of my stories.)

I hope you enjoyed it.

Sincerely,

_**Toph the Trickster**_


	2. Vigor Mortis

**Pre-chapter Notes / Author's ramblings**:

Merines Shinku: well now, I'm glad you haven't lost hope in me, then. I am rather interested in what you think for this chapter. Also, on the aspect of Perfect World: the story is rather challenging for me, as it goes against my base personality, hence the difficulty of finding good ideas, but the story is not abandoned. I still intend to continue it hopefully start on the chapter before the end of the month. It shall not be rewritten, as it was difficult as it is to write.

jlb316: Belated Happy new year to you, too (three weeks late).

lalalaniebug: thank you, and here's your update.

Guibin: well now, this review of yours should be a challenge to respond to.

Let's begin, shall we?

The style of writing I decided to use served to give a general air of intelligence to the whole story, making it seem like one that would require a certain degree of understanding to comprehend, and, most of all, to make me sound smart.

As for the use of other descriptions, I mainly used that to eliminate the issue that was presented by redundancies, for example:

_Suzaku raised his hand to grab his sword, Suzaku that drew his sword and held it in his right hand, Suzaku than swung with his right hand, attacking the man in front of him._

I mainly make it a point to use alternate descriptions that are obviously targeting a certain person.

On the note of _**former**_ and _**latter**_, in the case of two people / objects, former will refer to the first person mentioned, while latter refers to the second person.

I hope this information helps you.

* * *

**Chapter One:**

**Vigor Mortis**

_"__Many things are achieved in, rather interesting ways._

"_For the simplest of actions can bring about the most glorious of consequences._

"_Example: beginning a revolution does not require an army._

"_A knife and a dead body can achieve that, and on some occasions, so much more."_

-Marianne vi Britannia

~TtT~

_**T**_he color red, in its many shades, represented _many_ things: aggression, heat, passion.

But perhaps, the most noticeable representation of the color that we can think of, in context, at least, would be this:

Red represents _blood_.

~TtT~

_**R**_ubies splattered across the carpeted floor of the imperial float, as the sword that drew the gems swatted the fluid away with a single, forceful, swing.

It was once said, in the tale of Vladimir Dracula: _The blood is the life._

And so, as the life of the ninety-ninth emperor of the Holy Britannia Empire flowed out of him with a tenacity that he was known, by those close to him, to show, the world around him burst into activity.

Where there was silent awe, fear, submission, and despair, there now stood strength, courage, revolution, and hope, continuing to grow as drop, per gloriously crimson drop of the king's blood fell upon the woolen floor.

Cornelia li Britannia, her amethyst eyes, a trait she shared with many in the imperial line, shining with pain and triumph, cried out for all to hear: "Lelouch, the Demon, is dead; release the hostages!"

The cheers echoed through the known world as the people cheered the death of the greatest tyrant history had ever known, and glorifying the masked legend that brought it all about: Zero, the second.

Fists were raised as the name of Zero was called throughout the streets; Lelouch could almost feel the scoff break through the blood that blocked his throat.

_-Fools, the lot of them. Many out there, who claim to want the truth, on whatever matter, now cheer on for the greatest lie the world will ever be unable to know._

And, as he felt the warm, and shaking, hands of his younger sister, wrapping around his own, cold appendages, he said:

"This world, I destroy; this world, I create."

And thus passed Lelouch vi Britannia, known, now and forever, as the Demon King.

~TtT~

_**Location:**__ Chapel located in the West wing of the Britannia building: Palace Mortem, Edogawa ghetto, Tokyo, Japan_

_**Estimated Date / Timeline:**__ October 12__th__, 2018, day of the execution of the Instigators of the Damocles Rebellion_

_**Estimated Time:**__ 5:49pm, roughly two hours after the death of Lelouch vi Britannia_

_**A**_ sharp breath was drawn, a grave chill running down the witch's spine as the air flooded her lungs, then exhaling, and, effectively, releasing the gasses that her body had taken in.

Yet the compounding chill she felt every time she took another gasp of air remained within her, refusing to grant her any peace.

Her hands shuddered as she wrapped her fingers around the aforementioned appendages tighter; she clenched her golden eyes shut, and took another, shuddering, breath.

She could feel it, the cold, coming in from the oblivion around her, and, with each draw of air, taking over every aspect of the world around her.

Beginning with her lips, cooling the soft flesh whenever she would inhale, causing her delicate lips to dry and crack, and coming ever so close to rupturing forth glorious gemstone, entering her mouth, touching her tongue, teeth, and jaw, making her involuntarily clatter in the oppressive air of the empty chapel; moving, then, to her terribly sore throat, where it would, seemingly, freeze the many tears she had choked back over the past few hours of her, leaving her greatly discomforted.

And down the trachea it would travel, until the chilling cold would enter her lungs, filling it with frigid air, and compelling her chest into tightening all the more, then, unto her blood where the cold would move to the rest of her body, moving up her spine, and finally infecting her mind where it would claim its complete, and total, dominion over the Gray Witch.

_Perhaps this is what despair feels like, complete, and utter loss of hope, with not even a sliver of light to shine in the dark._

She felt her neck crane backward to look at the stained panes of glass that decorated the back of the priest's altar before her:

The delicate curves: twists and turns that entwined to form the vines that branched forth from the apex of the pointed dome, which was decorated with the scarlet symbol of the Power of the King, the mix of different colors: the greens of life, the reds of blood, the purples of the royal bloodline, and the whites of purity _of death_, the multiple representations: the Holy Cross, symbol of the religion of the holy empire of Britannia, placed right bellow the red crane.

_Is this what it feels like? Knowing that I am praying to god, knowing that the collective will never act on my wishes, never grant me the only solace I can gain from what has transpired today?_

The reddish-gold lights of the setting sun melding with the multiple colors of the colored window, tainting the crystals in a scarlet shade; the sunlight was slowly fading, and the light that once flooded the spacious room, through its sole window, was releasing its grasp over the darkness, and letting the latter take control of the universe that was the chapel.

The shaking in her hands softened, then ceased, the said hands unclasping, and moving to rest their palms on her knees, and her fingers on the carpeted floor.

CC took a deep breath, letting the cold chill her to the bone once more; she held her lungs for several moments, before releasing the air in a calming sigh.

_How fitting._ -She though as she pushed herself to her feet. _The scarlet light of a bloody memory ends with the world sinking into despair._ She sighed once more once she stood at her full height, a rather petite, five feet and three inches.

_-or perhaps it is only I who shall despair tonight._

The woman, as she _was_ a woman, despite her appearance, turned to leave the chapel, but, unfortunately for her, she was forced out of her, recently attained, peace by the sight that met her at the door:

"Your majesty," It was Jeremiah Gottwald, who looked at the brink of sanity: his features marred with a mix of negative emotions that seemed to stack with the, already difficult atmosphere of the chapel; his teal hair framing his face, rather than its regular combed-back style, the sleeves, collar, and train of his white and purple coat were in tatters, and stained with the blood of the man whose arm was slung around the knight's left shoulder.

But it was not these details that caught CC's attention, no, for there was a sight _far_ too horrendous for her to notice anything else.

No, it was not the other soldier that supported the aforementioned person's left arm, either.

What made CC gasp was the sight of black hair, white cloths, pale skin, and a burst of vibrant scarlet, slowly fading into sanguine, that came from the canter of his abdomen, and down, where it would drip to the floor from the hem of his tattered pants.

The man's eyes were closed, his chest no longer taking in the cold air that kept CC from dying another time.

"_Lelouch._" She whispered to herself, as she kept her eyes trained on the corpse.

_This was it._ She told herself, the realization finally dawning on her as concrete thought, no longer hiding behind unsupported convictions, and vague 'what-ifs'. _This is the end, the end of the Requiem, the end of this journey, the end of us. _She could feel her hands beginning to shake again, the chill of the twilight air filling her with more void than before.

She hardened herself.

_- For there is work to be done._

Quickly, her expression turned to stone, her trained emotions taking control, as she tried to get a grip of their situation.

She turned her golden, impenetrable gaze to the mechanical knight to her left:

"Jeremiah, what is the situation?" she sent her gaze up and down the man, her left eyebrow rising as she began to take note of the details she had pointedly ignored upon his entry. "Please explain why you look like that?"

Jeremiah looked down, only to be met with the, less than graceful, state of his uniform. The knight, to his credit, had the decency to act, even if mistimed, slightly embarrassed, said:

"It is chaos out there, milady." He began, not bothering to move from his difficult position while he spoke.

CC didn't bother to point that detail out either.

"The people are running amuck." He told the witch simply, his brows furrowed, and his lips pulled tightly downward. "And I don't think we will be safe here for long; I feel it is best we make for Palace Britannia immediately."

_-Palace Britannia._ The woman remembered fondly. It was the place where '_they_', she and Lelouch, had spent the first few months of his reign. It held good memories for the witch, ones that did not involve conspiracies, assassinations, and staged executions.

She had to stop herself from getting dug too deep in her thoughts, lest she break in front of the two males before her.

CC replied the knight with a curt nod, her long emerald hair echoing the swift movement: "Get right on it, then."

The knight did not move, though tilted his head in the direction of his only living companion, as though waiting for the witch to take notice of him before the Jeremiah left.

She then turned to the other soldier, only now acknowledging the other male's presence before her:

He was dressed as most noblemen, quite similar to Lloyd, the professor: A white outer coat, paired with a white buttoned up shirt, both of which were riddled with mud stains, tears, and several burn marks, his, tattered, black slacks decorated only with a silver-buckled leather belt and a watch chain that hung from his right pocket.

He was fairly young, at least in CC's opinion, his appearance telling her that he was, at most, in his early twenties; his white hair framing his face as the strands fell to his immaculate collar.

"And who might you be?" she asked, taking special care to sound as cold as possible. "And, if you don't mind, what is it you are doing here?"

The man stared at her, making no move to hide his lack of, dare she think, _nobility_ by ogling a woman, especially someone like CC, so openly.

It took several seconds for him to notice that he was being spoken to, which further caused the witch's opinion of the man to drop; he shook his head, as if to clear it of all thought, before he spoke:

"My name is Edmond Dantes." He told her tentatively, his voice displaying his obvious uncertainty. "I am a _former_ nobleman from Monte Cristo." He took a deep breath, feeling the same chill the witch felt run up his own spine. "I helped sir Gottwald carry his majesty's body here," there was another moment's hesitation, a time of discord that reflected in the man's eyes before he spoke the title: "_Milady._"

The witch stared at him in silence, noting certain details such as where he would cast recurring glances at, the way head would lean every other way, and the way his free hand seemed so restless that it repeatedly scratched the back of his head, or moved into his pant pocket, and out again.

He was rather unsettled, she concluded.

"Alright then, Lord Dantes." She began, still managing to keep the façade up. "With the power I have, I am restoring your family's nobility, and employing you in service of the Britannian royal family." CC felt her mood lighten slightly at the man's wide, green eyes. "And, as your first act of loyalty, you are to assist Jeremiah Gottwald in whatever endeavor he is to undertake until we arrive at Palace Britannia."

There was another bout of silence, this one more filled with though then uncertainty or nostalgia.

Edmond sent the green-haired woman a bow, one as deep as his current disposition, holding the Demon King's body, would allow:

"Yes, you majesty." He stated.

CC did not respond right away; instead, turning around to face the stained glass behind her.

"Go, then, and be quick." She told them with her back turned. "I have a feeling that we do not have much time before things move further downhill." She turned her head to the right, as though looking over her shoulder, and through the green curtain that blocked her face from their view: "I pray that you, both, stay safe; I will be here, waiting."

~TtT~

_**T**_he resounding echo of the slamming, wooden door bounced of the chapel walls as the two royalists left the room, nothing reacting to the loud, and sudden, sound, nothing daring to make a movement other than the fading sunlight as it continued to defiantly leave the room.

CC did not move, remaining in the same position she was before the men left her with the dead body of her accomplice, who was now lying on the carpet behind her; she kept silent, for not even her breathing would dare break the solemnity as she took in the cold air with rapid gasps. She turned about her place, white heels clicking together as she spun on the points, and snapped her ankles shut; she took in another lungful of air, this time, embracing the cold as it entered and dominated her

She felt herself give into it as she fell to her knees.

There was a dull thud as her clothed knees made contact with the red carpet bellow her, positioning her right at the left side of the emperor's head. She unknowingly drew a quick gasp of air at the sight of his peaceful countenance, moving her right hand to touch his pale forehead.

The chill inside her amplified, her own emotions, seemingly, freezing over as the void crept further within the reaches of her subconscious.

"_Lelouch_…" she whispered to herself as her both her hands lifted the king's head, and she repositioned herself so that she could place the tuft of, now dull and dirty, black hair unto her lap.

_This is he._ She told herself. -_The man who granted our wish; the man who granted the world what it wanted, the man who, for us, gave us peace, even if only for a time._ She felt herself shiver as more thoughts plagued her: _This is what is left of him, a cold, dead husk… _She clenched her eyes shut as another shiver run through her petite frame, her fingers gripping to bloody, dirty, robes a little tighter. -_Devoid of life, devoid of will, devoid of everything._

"It is done, Lelouch." She whispered gently as she ran her hand through the fallen man's hair, her eyes beginning to water with tears. "The plan, the _requiem_, is done." Her left hand reached out, grasping his own as her right caressed his pale cheek. "You have succeeded." There was a pause, before she spoke again:

"I hate you, do you know that?" she added, the tears finally sliding down her own, ivory face. "You shower me with glazed words of fulfilling promises, making me smile at the very end, saying that you, out of all the people I have contracted with, can, but look where you are now." She interlocked her fingers with his own limp ones and gripped them around his hand tightly.

"You're dead, and I'm alone, all over again." She repositioned her arms to wrap around his abdomen, and, ignoring the wet feeling of the drying blood that now stained her white clothes, pulled him closer to her as she buried her nose in his hair. "You promised me you would grant me my wish, an oath you swore before the Gods, themselves, and you left to get yourself killed." She forced a chuckle through her sobs.

"Arrogant to the very end, _Lelouch_ _vi_ _Britannia_, I hate you above all else, but I will miss you, always."

~TtT~

_**Location:**__ Voltaire Avenue, Edogawa ghetto, Tokyo, Japan_

_**Estimated Date / Timeline:**__ October 12__th__, 2018, day of the execution of the Instigators of the Damocles Rebellion_

_**Estimated Time:**__ 6:19pm, roughly two-and-a-half hours after the death of Lelouch vi Britannia_

_**T**_he sound of gunfire echoed through the night sky, sounding for miles as it was accompanied by the uproar of shouts, cheers, and stomping feet. The mobs, at first, were just people recovering form the shock of the emperor's death, moving in every other direction, gaining size as they moved along.

It was hours before they finally began to gain any coherence, in terms of movement.

One of the leaders, who as a member of Lelouch's royal guard, at that, had directed them to the different things that represented the Demon King's rule over the world, ranging form pictures, to buildings he had build during his reign, and people who were placed in power to enforce his rule.

They moved along, following this pattern, gathering more members, and splitting into smaller groups the farther they proceeded.

It was only right that the red moon rear its head upon this night.

As the screams of men and women, filled the air, ash rose to the sky as buildings lay smoldering in their wake.

The mobs were coming, cleansing all of Japan of the symbols of Lelouch's rule.

And, now, there was only one thing left.

Thousands of people: Japanese, Chinese, even other Britannians, stood several kilometers from the Britannia Tokyo Palace, surrounding it.

There was another roar.

And they charged forward.

~TtT~

Noise was a rare commodity, in the Tokyo palace, especially rare during the two months following the Damocles rebellion. It had become a regular thing to those in direct service of the emperor: the palace was always silent, to the point that the smallest of disturbances were, seemingly, amplified through the tall walls and high ceilings.

It was oppressive.

So it was only natural that there would be some people who would find the odd uproar to be something that was out of place.

CC's brow furrowed, her curiosity spiking as her sense of hearing, amplified by her lack of sight in the dark chamber, picked up unrecognizable noises, ones that she found, either, too far to be heard clearly, or too dulled by the stone barriers to be comprehended.

The witch closed her eyes, drawing her attention form her personal thoughts, and into what she felt was more important during the time:

-Her hearing.

She concentrated, taking in, and deciphering the vague waves as they made themselves known to her, imagining the things, along with the location, that made such noises.

She could sense tapping, followed by grinding, possibly against the concrete pathways of the streets outside building's west wing; the sound came chaotic, and disordered, yet following an alternating beat, each one coming after the other in a fixed timeframe, never failing to keep up with the other. Leaving CC to conclude them as footsteps; and, with the way the multitude of taps seemed to try to compete against each other, there were a lot of them.

The woman could also hear, what she believed to be, as muffled cries, some sounding clear and forceful, like one would think of an order, others coming off as more animal-like and aggressive; CC could envision the latter coming out as a beast's roar, or a howl of rage.

There was also another set sounds, one that the witch was slightly unfamiliar with; there was clanging, it could have been metal or glass, with some things sounding as though they were being dragged along the cement, grinding against the stone-like material and damaging the paths they crossed.

With the information she now had, CC attempted to combine the sounds into something more understandable, to put a face on the vague set of clues that she had managed to gather from the senses she had available for use:

The first, she found, were rather obvious: footsteps, leaving her to make the only possible conclusion:

There were people outside, a lot of them.

This though alone was enough to cause CC's golden eyes to snap open: _There are people outside the palace. There are __**many**__ people outside the palace, which is the place of residency of the Emperor after he took control of the world; this is the very house of tyranny._

She put in the other clues together: adding the second clue, and naming them as the voices of people outside, cheering and shouting as they moved on.

The third clue made CC stare at the cross that decorated the glass window, almost expecting something to happen within the next sixty seconds, so much that she had failed to notice the door to the chapel burst open as Jeremiah Gottwald, accompanied by several of the palace helpers, caretakers, and guards, ran into the room, calling:

"Milady," CC, her eyes still wide at her own conclusion, snapped to face the shouting knight. "The palace is being raided by mobs!" she stared at Jeremiah's remaining amber eye as he confirmed her own conclusion. "The shuttle is ready, we _must_ leave before they can break in; the other servants have already boarded, _you_ _must_-!"

He was interrupted by the chaotic sounds of gasps and shattering glass.

The witch turned her head, somehow forcing herself to stare at the sight of the broken cross and its many pieces falling to the ground beside her, followed by three Molotov bottles, already lit, twirling in the air, and heading straight for her.

There was a sudden jolt, a sudden pull that displaced the woman as Jeremiah grabbed hold of her right arm, and pulled her back, his own human eye wide, and his teeth grit together; the man's face was the obvious mask of fear, and panic.

The bottle broke, the sight of crushed crystal soon replaced with blazing fires and black smoke…

-Igniting the cold corpse of Lelouch vi Britannia.

There was silence first, only the cackling of the flames as they mocked the witch who stared at the sight before her in horror: The rest of the chapel, tapestries, altar, and pews, all caught fire as the obsidian smoke wafted to the high ceiling.

This type of silence was greatly different from the silence that graced the halls of Palace Mortem; this was not the solemn peace that greeted the residents of the building during the reign of the ninety-ninth emperor.

No.

This was oppression.

And, like all oppressions, it would be broken by something violent and painful:

The witch screamed:

"_**Lelouch**_!"

~TtT~

_It was said, that there was no one who dared weep on the eve of the Days of Dissent._

_-Not without knowing the name of that day's first casualty._

_Yet there was one occurrence that gripped at the souls of many a man the day of the Demon's death, especially those who had participated in the immolation of Palace Mortem:_

_A woman wailed as the chapel was set aflame,_

_And the cry resounded for miles, chilling the hearts of hundreds with the void she felt in her heart._

_I shall never forget that voice,_

_And I shall fear that woman for all eternity._

_-_Unknown Mob Leader

* * *

_**Notes:**_

**The Title**: Vigor Mortis, is actually derived from the phrase: Rigor Mortis. The "vigor" was used in order to change the meaning of the pair of words. Where "Mortis" means death, "Vigor" means survival, changing the meaning of the phrase to "Survive Death." This was also loosely inspired by the _Magic the Gathering_ card: _**Vigor Mortis**_

**Vladimir Dracula**: this is an alternate version of Bram Stoker's "_Dracula_, " wherein I made use of the inspiring person's full name: _**Vlad III Dracula**_. For, since the series itself is an alternate version of the Real world, I though of creating alternate names for characters of notable pieces of literature.

**Voltaire Avenue**: A fictional street I came up with during the typing process. I had assumed that, since the taking of Japan preceding the start of the series, that there would be some places that had been named with Britannia names, especially for areas that possessed government buildings.

_**Author's Notes:**_

This officially concludes the first chapter of Code Geass: Now and Forever, since the Notes section are considered part of the chapter.

Now, there are certain things that I am still insecure with, such as the smoothness of the plot development, and the in-character-ness of the participating personas in the story. I am also worried about the actual likeliness of what happened above actually occurring in the end of the series.

So tell me: did you find the plot believable? Were the characters properly portrayed? Were you satisfied with the way I wrote out scenes and descriptions?

Do share your opinions with me.

On another note, I am currently looking for a beta reader for my Code Geass stories, and would be extremely happy if there was someone out there willing to sacrifice their time reading over every detail I write out before I post them (details) on this site.

Anyone interested, please contact me, via private messaging.

Sincerely,

Toph the Trickster


	3. From the Darkness, Arise Once More

Hello all; it's been a while.

I'm sorry, but I am currently indisposed to present my review responses for the last chapter, but I shall update this chapter with them as soon as I can.

On with the update:

* * *

**UPDATE (June 28, 2010) {it should be noted that I am not yet dead}:**

I promised that I would repost this chapter with the responses and credits, and here I am to present:

**Review Responses:**

ofdarknesschaos: Well, I'm glad that you took it that way, as I was hoping for such a reaction.

Merines Shinku: Yes, CG: NaF was rewritten to occupy several new twists and a slightly more refined plot than the original version; I'm glad that you enjoyed it.

Skippy Sigmatic and KiKi Hayashi (Kiki's response would be for her review to this chapter) : I am grateful for the input with regards to my writing. I too have noticed that I have the tendency of using many commas, and that would leave my work in a cut up hunk of words. Yes, I do sometimes try hard to make my work sound sophisticated but I do that to live to a style I might have started when I was letting things out (which would usually be at the start of each story). There are still many improvements that can be made to myself and my work in general. Thank you. Also, it's a typo, Kiki. ^_^

Sierra-de-Lafayette : It is human nature to change as time goes on, be it slow or sudden. As for Lelouch… Well, you'll just have to wait on that one.

Fangirl12: Thank you very much.

hellangelsakura, Tem, Senyor Fier Mensheir : I'm glad you enjoyed the read, and I hope that you enjoy this one as well.

Now, with that over, I would very much like to thank the two people that helped me greatly with this chapter's development, _**Fangirl12**_and _**Merines Shinku**__**.**_ You have my gratitude for beta-reading this, and having the patience to deal with me.

Sincerely,

_**Toph the Trickster

* * *

**_

**Chapter Two:**

**From the Darkness, Arise Once More**

"_Do not give me that look, Catherine._

"_You are aware of what we have to do, and why we are doing it._

"_We all have our roles, and it is crucial that you fulfill yours when the time comes, just as I am to play my own._

"_There is no room for despair, no room for hesitation;_

"_Not from you."_

-Lelouch vi Britannia

~TtT~

_**F**_ire can be described in many ways:

It is anger, courage, passion and might.

But remember that as we see our homes burn, and see that bodies of the charred, we are reminded of fire's other trait:

It is destruction, and thus:

_Fire is loss._

~TtT~

_**D**_emons…

Yes, that was the word CC desired to use to describe the images she saw before her, the mocking laughter of the flames that continued to burn through illuminated chapel.

Her imagination continued to work, projecting demons as the fire that taunted her, reminded her of every loss she experienced throughout her horrendously long life.

Yet, through all of these metaphorical distractions, the woman found herself both ignoring and focusing on fires that spread through the carpets, tapestries, pews, and ornaments and subsequently tinting the chamber in scarlet. She could feel her long, pale hands breaking her body from Jeremiah's hold, and her feet rushing forward to the oxidizing corpse.

Despite the flames, the witch still felt the frigid chill about her, growing ever colder as she reached her hand out through the onyx gasses, and touched the heated palm of the emperor.

The laughter continued; the disturbing sound making it to her, unobstructed, and growing ever louder as the other people rushed out of the room – for whatever reason, she did not care to guess - leaving her in the presence of Jeremiah Gottwald.

At this point in time, however, the witch could no longer pay any of these details any mind, as she was suddenly preoccupied with what was happening to herself.

Her vision blurred to blotches of red, orange, gray, silver, and purple as pain radiated from the crimson crane upon her forehead; her knees, which had been supporting her kneeling position, grew weak as her Code began to sap her of all her strength.

CC knew she hit the blackened carpet despite the dull and distant thud she heard as she felt the ash fly at the impact; she heard the faded cry of Jeremiah behind her.

She was too far gone to respond to his cry now, though.

The witch embraced the whiteness that began to come with the pain, the whiteness that overtook the blur of colors from the world around her.

The whiteness that, Catherine knew without a shadow of a doubt, would take her to the World of C.

_-A memory is coming to surface._

~TtT~

_**Location:**__Study, Northern Tower, Palace Aries, Area Twelve, Holy Britannia_

_**Estimated Date / Timeline:**__October 13th, 2008, eleven years preceding the rise of Lelouch vi Britannia_

_**Estimated Time:**__9:38am, a quarter hour after a morning horse ride with the ninety-eighth emperor and empress_

_**L**_elouch vi Britannia was never fond of his father, that was a fact that he was sure of, but another thing the prince was aware of was that his mother was rather fond of the man's presence, going to such lengths as to invite him to visit her on a quarterly basis.

It came to such a point that Charles zi Britannia, with the work that he had to deal with, decided to have his own study in the northern tower of Palace Aries, so as to be able to do his work despite being away from the capital.

Marianne, of course, complied without much argument, immediately having the room cleaned, and picking out the furnishings with the accompaniment of the emperor.

It was in this room, after an exhausting ride through the grounds with his mother and father – Nunnally having requested to remain in bed after using up all her energy playing with her elder half-sister, Euphemia, the previous night. – That Lelouch found himself, taking in every detail of an enclosure that he rarely, if at all, entered:

To the left of the oaken double doors, that Lelouch had just entered through, was a wooden dresser, on top of which was a volume of black, hard-bound books, their spines labeled with years; the leftmost one starting with the year Zero a.t.b. and the farthest book on the right ending with the present year; each one decorated with the image of a crimson crane in flight.

Sweeping his glance further, Lelouch's eyes met a large mahogany bookshelf, towering above the polished floor, and touching the edge where the ceiling met the ten-foot wall. Opposite the dresser, which was the detail mentioned first, was the room's only window; it functioned as the third wall, occupying a whole side and partly covered by red, velvet curtains.

The remaining side was occupied by a long red couch, accompanied by a set of four single chairs, and a wood-framed, glass coffee table.

But, returning to the first border, Lelouch felt himself drawn to a detail he had neglected on his initial observations:

-A portrait of his mother and father together, which was dressed in a frame of wood, using a design of gold-cast vines and serpents that crept up and down the wooden laterals.

The little prince found himself blinking repeatedly, seemingly trying to get a grasp of the painting situated behind the glass:

His father, newly ascended to the throne, wearing an ensemble he was unaccustomed to seeing. Not that he was used to seeing his father when the latter's hair was still gold, of course.

The ninety-eighth emperor of the Holy Britannia Empire was adorned in a black coat, its tails reaching further then the picture would allow, metallic buttons and lace decorated the piece of clothing, with a gold chain hanging from his right shoulder and crossing over to his left hip, a purple sword hung from it; the sleeves ended with red cuffs, that gave way to silver gauntlets that encased his hands. Most of his shoulders and neck were covered by a white, puffy collection of fur that functioned as the beginnings of a red cape that fell behind him.

Beside him, was Marianne when she was nineteen, dressed in, what Lelouch considered to be, a bastardized version of her Knights of the Round uniform: The outer coat was black, as opposed to the white that was mainly used; her corset a shade of bloody red, and the same image of the red bird, bordered with golden lace, adorned upon her chest; her black hair was tied and clipped into a long ponytail.

Lelouch looked on, then taking into detail the expressions his parent wore:

The eleventh prince knew, for a fact, that his father never smiled; he had never sent he king smile since he had gained the capability of reasoning; no, Charles zi Britannia always had his lips pulled downward at a sharp angle.

_I had even been convicted to believing that father hadn't even smiled at any of his weddings._

But, in this portrayal of the emperor and empress, the male half had his lips twisted up; this detail alone, despite the fact that the difference of the smirk from a straight line was almost unnoticeable, caused the boy to raise his eyebrows in surprise.

His mother was no better.

Lelouch was accustomed to seeing his mother smile; she did so very often, even threatening several nobles with the same gentle smile that she gave her children when she greeted the latter in the morning.

But what he saw in the portrait was something else entirely.

The very air Marianne vi Britannia exuded screamed warning; warning of the fact that she was a knight of the round, warning for the fact that she could kill you with her bare hands, as well as in a knightmare.

She was a woman to be feared and respected, beyond all else.

Her smirk, as she had her arm wrapped around the emperor's own, told the viewer of the painting exactly that; this portrayal of his mother wasn't telling him of her kindness and compassion, as many other depictions of her had; no, this one told of her power, as a knight and as a queen, along with her willingness to pay the price required for her to get what she coveted.

The image of the two together said one thing:

"Behold our might: the blood and the flash."

Lelouch, now broken of his concentration, turned to face the man situated behind the wooden desk, which was placed right in front of the revealed segment of window.

Purple met purple when Charles stated the title of the painting on the wall.

"That was taken shortly after your mother and I ended the Emblem of Blood, a good eleven years ago." The emperor was seated on a tall-backed leather chair that was placed behind his desk, multiple documents littering the wooden surface. "I married her three days later."

Lelouch turned back to the painting in though, trying to recall any stories that he had heard from that time: The Emblem of Blood was the darkest era of the Royal side of Holy Britannia, nightly killings, and hundreds upon thousands of betrayals, all for the sake of taking the throne. Lady Beatrice, Odysseus's mother, told of the death and suffering that plagued most of the nobles during that time, where even the killing of unborn children was practiced if the child possessed the potential to seize the throne when he, or she, came of age.

"Father," the prince called, turning to face the man. "What do you think of the monarchy system our nation is using right now?"

The comment caused Charles to raise an eyebrow towards his eleventh son: "And what, pray tell, brought this question about?" the man leaned back into the leather backrest, placing his elbows on the armrests and lacing his fingers together. "Taking an interest in politics early, Lelouch?"

The boy shook his head.

"No, it's just that I had heard of other forms of government where the people are able to have a hand in the way things are run." The boy placed his hand to his chin in thought. "A democracy, I believe it was called."

The ninety-eighth emperor stared at the prince for a moment, the former scrutinizing the latter and looking for any clues that boy's body language could suggest.

The older male nodded: "That is true; there is a government that allows the people a hand in choosing those that lead them." He explained, crossing one leg over the other as he continued; "It was meant to center on equality among citizens."

"Then isn't that better?" Lelouch queried, his eyebrows knitting together. "That way, there will be no fighting over the throne among the other nobles, and the people would be more content since the leaders are chosen by them. Why not-"

"No." was Charles's simple reply, stopping the prince's tirade with a closed, iron door. "Democracy is a mob rule." The king stated with a scowl. "There shall be no progress in that form of government for our country." The man drew a long breath, looking to the ceiling as he did so.

This ought to be an informative lecture.

"Inequality is a part of humanity; you must always remember that." The emperor returned his gaze to his young son's. "Democracy creates the illusion of equality through certain rights that seem preposterous.

"-A man who knows not how the world moves has no right in speaking of how a country must be run." He then said: "You must also take note of such a government's own flaws: such as the choosing of candidates; people can be fooled, remember that, and thus, all it takes to win the hearts of the people are a few well-placed actions and several honey-tongued words.

"The population, like any single person, can be lied to; it is only a matter of skill and application."

There was a moment of silence after the emperor was done voicing his opinion; Lelouch stared at his father, getting a general gist of what the man meant. Unfortunately for the boy, he was interrupted of his contemplations by his father's sigh:

"Perhaps it will be better if I showed you how things work in the world around us." The man placed his palms against his knees, and pushed himself to his feet, eliciting a creek from the chair's wooden frame. After taking a large huff to make himself more alert, Charles made his way to dresser, and pulled one of the compartments open, sticking a large left hand and moving it about, as though searching for something.

It was after several seconds of feeling through the polished wood of the drawer did the emperor's eyebrow rise, signifying that he had found what he searched for:

"A scale?" Lelouch said, staring at the apparatus with a raised eyebrow.

The King nodded: "A scale."

It was an elegant thing, sunlight bouncing off the bends and curves of the golden plating of the contraption as it was set atop the glass coffee table; Britannia's coat of arms emblazoned gold against the black tint between its two arms.

Charles sat down on one of the large chairs, and gesturing his son to do the same. And Lelouch, without thinking, followed as his father said, feeling his rear sinking into the silken cushion of the chair across Charles; the table with the scale stood between them.

The ninety-eighth emperor spoke: "Think of this scale's position as the manifestation of harmony; the horizontal-most level representing the perfection that is balance." Charles reached a gloved hand into his pocket and pulled out a little pouch. Giving the piece of sewn leather a shake, and eliciting a jingle from within its confines, the man pulled away the golden string that kept the pouch's contents form spilling, and spread the objects over the glass surface:

Gems: rubies, sapphires, diamonds, emeralds, topazes, and amethysts, ranging from the size of nail on Lelouch's little finger to the size of Charles's whole thumb.

"These," the emperor motioned to the precious stones that littered the table. "Are the people of the world." A silken hand moved to pick up one of the larger gems: an emerald about the size of Lelouch's middle finger, one that was bordered by a silver frame. "The larger gems are those that are of power and high political standing." Charles then used his free hand to point to a set of eight rubies that were the smallest of the collection. "And the smallest stones are the common people.

"Those in power bear more weight, exerting more pressure to influence the state of the world around them." The speaker took the emerald and placed in on one of the scale's platforms, subsequently causing the scale to tip in the stone's favor. "But they do not exist in numbers; they are single people working to achieve something in personal, or familial, interest."

These words caused the child's eyebrows to furrow:

"But what about those people in power that try to help the masses?"

Charles found himself smiling at his son's insight. "True, there are the leaders that side with the masses." He took four of the eight rubies and placed them upon the platform opposite the emerald, causing the position of the lateral to shift into a diagonal line shy of horizontal.

The king took another stone, a topaz this time, half the size of the emerald that had been placed on the other side, and placed it among the rubies, creating equilibrium among the gems.

"The many and the few are in constant conflict." Charles gestured to each of the scale's respective sides. "One trying to exert more influence than the other; this is the endless struggle for power.

"-And in the endless struggle, people learn of the world around them, they are able to progress, working through time with the knowledge that was gained from the conflict." Charles told his son, taking note of the confused way the boy was eyeing him. The emperor took in a deep breath: "Remember that a human being learns more from failure then he does from success.

"Disagreement, in itself, is a failure in the eyes of many. As it is human nature to desire perfection, and, people are able to learn from that disagreement." The king leaned back into his chair as he spoke again:

"There is progress in a mixture of unity and conflict; progress that is born from the harmony of inequality"

Charles's lips pulled down and his eyebrows curled together into a slight frown.

"Understand this, child:" the man reached out with his right hand and flicked the emerald away with his index finger, the sound of the ricocheting gem echoing through the now-silent room, the pressure of the vocal void only being uplifted by the sudden creak of the scale's joints and the clatter of stone as the expensive minerals collided with the glass.

"Equality breeds familiarity; familiarity breeds contempt; contempt breeds dissent, and dissent breeds destruction." Lelouch looked up from the fallen stones on the table to meet the intense glare of his father. "The day the world stands under absolute unity, when there are no longer those to go against the desires of the many. There will be those that will rise to try to fill the void that is left."

Charles stood up and took swift strides to the window.

"The lady Discord shall have her feast; Cocytus shall host it."

The father and son exchanged a glance once more, the young prince aware of the fact that the man before him no longer spoke as his father, but as the ninety-eighth emperor of Holy Britannia, the man who ended the emblem of blood. Lelouch found himself listening in awe as he awaited his father's next words, somehow knowing –in the very depths of his soul- that the king's next words would weigh in his heart forever.

"And the world shall burn."

~TtT~

_**Location:**__ West wing hallway of the Britannia building: Palace Mortem, Edogawa ghetto, Tokyo, Japan_

_**Estimated Date / Timeline:**__ October 12th, 2018, day of the execution of the Instigators of the Damocles Rebellion_

_**Estimated Time:**__ 6:08pm, a third of an hour passing the burning of the palace chapel_

_**T**_houghts congregated as CC was pulled back into her own consciousness, the gods seemingly content with what they had decides to show her, and her mind coming to contact with the connections of her senses once more.

_The balance of the world… _She felt the thought pass her mind. _Many assume it as good and evil, _She recalled the images she had just seen. _But perhaps it is not the case. The weak will come together, using the strength of numbers to battle few powerful._

Catherine contracted her lungs, pulling the burning air to be drained of heat by the chill within her; she looked back to the parts of history she had been forced to bare witness to: The rise of nations, the unopposed growth of Britannia, the rise of kings, tyrants, and men, all of which were testament to the power of the many against the might of the few.

_Few ever notice it, but I believe it has been that way since the dawn of time. _

She could hear the patter of heels against the marble of the palace hall, the bounce of her green tresses with the rhythmical rise and fall of the hard back and iron shoulders she leaned against, the information leading her to only one conclusion:

The witch let out a moan as she spoke to the half-human that carried her, her hands clutching at the fabric of his coat and pulling her closer so she could keep her position secure:

"Jeremiah," her voice was hollow, void of as much emotion as the barren hallway before them. "Where-?"

"We are almost at the hangar entrance, milady." The knight swiftly anticipated, not stopping to either look at her or put her down. "All the others are on board, and I just need to foresee the final preparations of the shuttle, and we should be off."

He was answered with a silent nod, and the pair continued without another bother.

It was during this period of silence that a pair of golden eyes took the opportunity to look at the surrounding sights and absorb every detail of the building that the owner knew would not be able to see another dawn:

From the tapestries that lined the walls - each one depicting a coat of arms from a notable order within the country, that of a dynasty's, or even a personal symbol of a singular person; if it was an emblem that originated from Britannia, you would be sure to find a copy of it hung on the hall – to the columns located between each piece of hung cloth, to the observation that none of the lightings were working, and the fact that the air within the building was rising due to the influence of the growing fires, hidden as they were.

It was through there many details, the contrast of the heated air against her chilled flesh, and the similarity of the darkness around her to the way she felt, she saw images flash before her.

Quite unlike the previous set of memories, this one was more recent, and one of her own.

Lelouch's voice resounded clearly in her mind:

"_**This shall be the plan that must be carried out when the requiem is at its end.**_

"_**-The days of the aftermath following the Demon's fall.**_

"_**-The Days of Dissent."**_

CC's eyes grew wide, a sharp gasp hissing through the burning air of the noiseless hallway as the realization hit her:

_The plans for the coming days, Lelouch's instructions!_

One of her hands immediately let go of Jeremiah's shoulder and began to pat the area around her abdomen, as though feeling for something underneath the cloth of the restrainer suit.

_Any stiffness, anything that might indicate I have it here with me._ She pleaded to the fates. _Just this once, favor me, I beg of you._

Her franticness was obvious now, even to the haggard cyborg who had been carrying her, her movements were erratic, panicky and unsure as she came closer and closer to checking all the possible places upon her body that could serve as sanctuaries for what she sought; she could feel the sweat well up from her pores and soak her palms, neck, and back.

And, through all this, the chill grew ever more frigid as the fact came to her:

_I don't have it._

The witch knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she was now in the worst possible situation she could have ever been at that point in time. The most important part of the next phase was not with her, and Lelouch did not give her a general idea of what she was to accomplish.

_At least nothing more then saying that it would be my job to take care of what was left._

Her eyes clenched shut, the grip of her left hand tightening on Jeremiah's shoulder, making her feel the hard iron underneath the cloth.

She did not want to do what she was about to do, not after all that just happened to her. No, she did not feel willing do what she had to do.

_It's cold, too cold._

"Milady," She heard through the heaviness of the silence, the rhythmical clinking of metal heels no longer coming to her ears, as the knight that carried her stopped his run. "What is it?"

Gold eyes snapped open, the call of the mechanical man pulling her from the depths of though, the chill weakening slightly, and the heat of the hot air rushing into her cold body as she drew a breath.

"Set me down, knight." She commanded with a level voice. "I am well capable of using my feet on my own now."

Jeremiah did not argue, setting her down and hearing the click of her boots' thin heels upon the tile; he turned to face her, his gaze trained to her feet in respect.

"We are almost at the hangar, milady; the servants are already on board, and the final preparations just have to be set-up."

CC said nothing to his words, not immediately, at least.

_But what must be done must be done, lest all of this pain become in vain._

"Go on ahead." She told him, turning around to let the man face her back. "There is still something I must do."

Jeremiah's reaction was immediate: his head rose to meet a pair of golden eyes, as though searching for an answer that the witch refused to convey through words.

He was brought back to reality, though, when she decided the opposite:

"You are the only person, other than I, that can finish the shuttle's final preparations, and pilot it to our next destination, and there is still something that must be done before this palace burns to the ground." She looked over her shoulder, to meet the cyborg's remaining amber eye:

"We all have our roles in this, and it is time I played mine as Lelouch did his."

~TtT~

_**Location:**__ North-West adjoining hallway of the Britannian building: Palace Mortem, Edogawa ghetto, Tokyo, Japan_

_**Estimated Date / Timeline:**__ October 12th, 2018, day of the execution of the Instigators of the Damocles Rebellion_

_**Estimated Time:**__ 6:18pm, seven minutes into CC's dash to the imperial suite._

_**C**_atherine dashed through the empty halls, turning left or right depending on what she thought would take her to the north wing's staircase fastest.

She did not have much time; she knew that for a fact; from the resounding gunfire, shouts, cheers, and screams, to the scarce sound of falling pillars and collapsing walls; the need for swiftness stood at the forefront of her mind. But despite this, every few turns, she would run dangerously close to the steadily spreading flames; and their cracking and cackling would echo through the recesses of her mind like the demons she still imagined in the chapel just minutes earlier.

Golden eyes observed their surroundings closely, taking note of every landmark that they could recognize to lead their possessor down a safe path.

_I cannot afford to make anymore mistakes. _She reminded herself as she made a sharp right at a three-way crossing, and rushing through a curtain-adorned hall. _Who knows how deep into the palace those mobs have gone._ The very concept of such a though did not sit well with the green-haired woman.

_Not in the slightest._

She pushed her tiring legs further, using her centuries of experience in mental control to suppress the pain that the buildup of lactic acid in her muscles was causing. She ran ever faster, taking another right into an entrance that had been covered by another set of curtains, and stopping as she came to face the northern staircase.

It stood before her, the antique of black ironwood that, somehow, remained untouched by the aggressive flames that continued to consume Palace Mortem.

The battle of heat and cold began within her then; the chill sending the slivers of doubt from the back of her mind. It only seemed too good to be true, knowing that the set of steps before her was only two doors away from the object of her desire; it didn't fit right that things would seem this easy, and her instincts were telling her exactly that.

But the heat of the mortal hell that was the incinerating palace whispered to her ear:

_What other option do you possess, though?_

CC knew then that her mind was more taxed than she had ever imagined it to be in the last few months.

Her subconscious had a point; she did not have that many alternative choices, and even if she had, there was no sure way of knowing if the other staircases were still there to cross.

_The eastern stairwell is too far off, at least another half-hour of running, if I'm lucky, and the central passes were all blocked by the fire._

Yes, she _was_, with absolute certainty, out of options.

She sighed, eyebrows furrowing with frustration and exhaustion as she took her first few steps toward the assembled wood, extending her pale hands, which were now clammy with ice-cold sweat, to touch the smooth and shiny handrails.

She froze in realization, golden eyes opening slowly as she observed a detail that she had not noticed at first:

Heat and smoke rose form between the wood, steel, and stone of the black staircase, the darkness concealing it's presence atop the construct.

Catherine set a white boot forward, hearing the hollow sound echo through the cackles as her heel stabbed the wood; she knew that this set of stairs sat directly atop the furnace room, with no earth or stone to protect it from what flames already raged bellow, and the risks ran high that, despite the strength of the wood, it was already nearing it's breaking point against the heat.

She shifted half of her weight forward, her right hand holding unto the black railing in an attempt to test the step's sturdiness; it creaked under the pressure.

-But held despite the weight.

Another foot rose to the occasion, skipping the second step, and landing on the third level with a sharp click and a hollow thud.

The wood creaked, but stood against her weight once again,

It was after this was done, did time seem to slow down for the immortal.

She drew a deep breath, feeling the cold deepen slightly in that instant of decision. She knew that what she was about to do was reckless, outright dangerous even, but she was also aware of the fact that she no longer had time; she had to be quick.

_It's not that I'd die, after all._

And so the foot on the lower of the two steps came up, CC's knee joint creating a right angle before her shin swung forward and her hind foot pushed to elevate her past four other steps, and landing on the fifth with a dangerous creek, and the sounds of splintering wood. Catherine pushed up another set of four steps.

And so she ran up, taking each set in literal stride as cries of pain from the steps bellow chorused with the cackling laughter of the flames down under; each platform would bend upon her touch, and break as she left it behind, no longer safe to use as a method for return.

Up five, up five, and up five, once more, she climbed higher up the case of forty-five, her path unhindered and her travel untouched.

But as a testament to cruelty, upon stepping to make her final leap, she sensed grow strong within her, rising with a sudden burst of heat form below, where the demons of the fire whispered to her:

_**No, no, no! **_The twisted voices laughed into her ear._** No mercy for you, queen Catherine!**_

And the steps that creaked under her feet snapped at the sudden pressure, causing the witch to fall into the fiery pit bellow.

But that was not the Hell meant of her; CC realized this when she heard a sizzle that she could recognize all to well in the days of her childhood:

It was the sound of the boiler's furnace, crying and wailing in the wake of its failure. And that could only mean one thing:

_It's going to explode._

And gold eyes went wild before the splintered wood blasted through them.

~TtT~

_**H**_er arms strained with effort, pain coursing through every inch of her body as she attempted to pull herself up whatever surface her left hand was holding unto.

Pain was met with more pain as she turned to lay herself on her back; she was, undoubtedly, bleeding form several places, chips and stakes of ironwood lodged within her body, which was now well-heated by the flames that scorched her skin and sweat-drenched clothes.

Catherine though hard, concentrating on the largest centers of the pain that irritated her so. From her marred legs that bent in directions not intended in their original creation, to the endless sting that flowed from her unseeing eyes, and the familiar sensation of blood that came down from the multiple fractures to her head, the witch's attention was on a stake that had stabbed through her body in a most familiar place:

-An ageless scar that decorated the pale flesh between her left shoulder and hip, one that displayed a familiar symbol, and brought the woman back to centuries past…

-Where the all-too-remembered pain of betrayal and despair seemed just as cold as it ran tonight.

~TtT~

_**W**_hite does not necessarily represent the light of hope.

No, the white is more than just that; the white is deep, it is all-encompassing, it is oppressive, but most of all, it is empty.

_What you see before you is the white devoid of all, so fear it for all you are; you will no longer be the same when all is said and done._

~TtT~

_**Location:**__ Unknown_

_**Estimated Date / Timeline: **__Fifteenth Century; the birth of the Gray Witch six centuries preceding the rise of the Demon King_

_**Estimated Time:**__ Unknown_

_**T**_he girl was lost; at least that was how she thought she perceived the concept of her current situation.

It was strange, seeing only empty whiteness, yet feeling the pressure of water all around her; the sensation bordering on the pain one would feel when one was deep under the sea.

She turned her head around, lime-green hair whipping slowly through the white, as though she really was submerged, looking for anything that might tell her of her whereabouts.

The girl screamed when she caught the sight of dozens of ghastly, gaseous, black skulls that burst forth before her, seemingly laughing at her now terrified expression; the sound cutting through the void unhindered by the water she believed to be there.

She felt her feet leave the ground, she not falling despite this, and pulled her legs, up to cover her bare and shaking chest; she was crying now.

She heard the bubbles rise form bellow her, feeling the pockets of air brush her pale skin, and passing her to go to the emptiness above.

She heard a voice through the bubbles as they rose:

"Awaken, little Catherine."

Catherine's eyes, which had been shut since she began to hold unto herself, opened to meet the silver eyes and gentle smile of the woman she had know for close to a decade:

Mother Rosaline held out her hand: "Stand, dear child." The girl thought she saw a tiny glint in the elder woman's eyes as the latter spoke her next words "The time has come."

The young woman took the nun's offered hand with furrowed eyebrows; pain and fear forgotten as her bare feet touched the unseen floor.

"Where are we, mother?" Catherine asked the nun, the former's golden irises sparkling with curiosity.

Rosaline addressed the question without hesitation:

"This is a very special place, young one," the older woman turned to walk in the direction Catherine was facing. "This is a place that only a privileged few are given the right to enter; only a few are given the blessing to see." The nun continued as her surrogate daughter followed. "This is a place where the gods come down to meet mortals such as you."

The younger girl paused in her walk, feeling alarm bells ringing at the oddly dark tone her elder had used in the last statement. She found it hard to point out, but the girl was sure that it was there; that heavy feeling of longing.

Catherine de' Celeste felt a sudden chill run through when she looked into her mother's words:

'_-Mortals such as you.'_

"Mother, what are we to do here?"

Silver eyes chilled over as the nun spun to look her daughter in the eye, the cold in the latter beginning to spread throughout her body.

"I already told you, girl," Rosaline's tone was flat. "The time has come."

The younger girl felt her eyebrows push further together, strangely hearing a chorus of voices whisper frigidly to her ears with the words:

_**Beware of treachery…**_

The nun continued, unperturbed by the expression the human before her gave: "When I gave you your gift, you had agreed to grant me my wish when your power had grown enough." Catherine felt the mother's hand land on one of her shoulders, the contact creating more cold rather than the warmth she once felt when she was younger. "I am a bearer of the Code, a trait that makes one immortal, in everything but judgment, and only a bearer of the Power of the King can inherit it.

"Eight years since you were gifted, that is a great deal of growth, Catherine."

Fingers gripped tighter, pain beginning to accompany the chill from the contact; the voices told her then:

_**Your time has come.**_

"You have served your purpose…"

Catherine felt cold, her knees starting to shake in the white void where they stood; the emblem on Rosaline's forehead glowed scarlet.

"Now, I shall collect."

And then the pain came, the blade cutting through her flesh as she let loose a scream; the nun continued despite this, driving with another swing just seconds after pulling it out of the younger girl's abdomen.

And it was, minutes later, when the green-haired girl was staring up from the pool of her own blood, did Rosaline speak her last words before fading away:

"You shall see when it is right to, the good of your coming immortality." Hands, grasped the sides of Catherine's head, pulling the latter up to meet the eyes of whom she once saw as her mother. "Regret it, you shall not,"

Rosaline planted a little kiss on the dying girl's forehead.

"CC."

The world fell away then, death claiming the child in his cold embrace for the first time as the despair of betrayal consumed her.

But in all this, she saw not darkness.

No;

All she saw was white.

* * *

**Notes:**

**Cackling flames:** please note that this is not a typographical error, as some may have assumed in the last chapter. It is meant to emphasize on the mockery of the flames by laughing at CC's predicament. This personification might be used in succeeding chapters.

**Cocytus:** This is a reference to Dante Alighieri's Divine Comedy, the Inferno, to be exact. Cocytus is the center of Hell, a frozen lake where traitors are given their punishment; Lucifer is said to be found at the lake's center.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Now, this officially ends the second chapter of Code Geass: Now and Forever. I apologize for the delay of this, but there was little that could be done for there was much to do, and no time to think of anything good to place in.

Also, I feel I should tell you that I will be gone for the next two months, and will be, without doubt, unable to update any of my stories, so it would be rather pointless to ask me to update soon.

I will though, promise to do so at my earliest opening in schedule.

Now, I hope you all enjoyed this installment, and I hope to hear of your opinions on this.

Sincerely,

Toph the Trickster


	4. Flight of the Empress Witch

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Code Geass

* * *

Hello all; it's been a while.

I'm sorry, but I am currently indisposed to present my review responses for the last chapter, but I shall update this chapter with them as soon as I can.

On with the update:

Sincerely,

_**Toph the Trickster

* * *

**_

_**Code Geass: Now and Forever:**_

_**Chapter Three:**_

**Flight of the Empress Witch**

"_**C.C.**__," the emperor asked his companion, looking up from the wooden desk and turning around to look at her prone form upon the bed. "There is something that I've been meaning to ask you."_

_The green-haired witch looked up from the magazine that held her attention to look at her partner who did likewise with the book he cradled in his hands. With a tilt of her head, she pulled away the slice of cheese pizza that she had been partially placed into her mouth._

"_Ask me something?" She returned after swallowing. "You make me wonder why you'd put it off for so long, __Lelouch__." there was a sliver of anger in her voice, the cold that was normally present when she spoke degenerating into openly-expressed ire with every word she related._

_It had been happening rather frequently now._

"_Considering what's scheduled to happen tomorrow, isn't it rather late to pose any more quest-..."_

"_Because my question, Catherine, is relevant to tomorrow's agenda." -Was his immediate response; Lelouch had grown tired of what she had to say on the matter, for she had already made her stand quite clear to him._

"_It's not exactly something that might make or break what has been set to occur tomorrow," He added stiffly, brow furrowed and his fingers clenched around the leather cover of his book in such visibility that made the witch partially aware of how his thoughts were plaguing him. "Rather, it is something that I feel I need to ask so that I may rest just a little easier tonight."_

_She said nothing at first and merely deigned to place the food she held atop the silver tray that he had brought up to their room, wiping her hands on the white cloth that came with it, she sat up on the bed she had been lying on._

_Catherine d' Celeste's golden eyes gazed into the purple of the Demon King's, taking notice of the great difference between the cold composure with which he spoke, his aforementioned posture, and the well-concealed pleading his eyes shone with._

_A pleading that could be recognized only by her._

"_What is it, Lelouch?"_

_She found herself unable to ask any more; no more pleasantries, no more flowery words, no more games, for C.C. felt that it would be terribly insulting to him now._

"_Will it hurt?" -Was all he could ask._

- The Eve of the Demon's Death

~TtT~

_**P**_ain and suffering is the cup from which we drink.

_But it is through surviving it - the shifting of loyalties, the bending of beliefs, the culling of humankind - that we may call ourselves strong._

~TtT~

_**Location: **__House Kyoto former headquarters, Mount Fuji, Japan_

_**Estimated Date / Timeline:**__ October 12th, 2018, day of the execution of the Instigators of the Damocles Rebellion_

_**Estimated Time:**__ 6:30pm, five minutes after the destruction of Palace Mortem's primary western staircase_

_**A**_ lone woman sat before a large, round table, a book in her right hand as she looked to the stone sky in question. While the shadows of the room and the sanguine of the shredded curtains listened to her words of contemplation:

"_The dim darkness takes this world yet none see the shadow of the master's mask._

"_Are we all truly so ignorant to not take notice of the task?_

"_There is more then what we truly see in the shadow of demise._

"_But where do the answers lie, where doth hide the light?"_

The verse ended as it began, with silence's return, the woman slammed her book closed and placed it atop the table with a grave thud. Her silver eyes kept at the ceiling still, searching it as though her deepest memories were posted on its surface.

_What now?_ She found herself thinking. Where to go and what to do? She had been contemplating for months now, without finding a solid answer.

She had acted, of course, for it was unlike her to _truly_ sit idly, but that was different from what action she sought to take, for all she did in the last six months was prepare for when her decision would be made.

She was so close to an answer now; she could feel it.

"Are those your thoughts on the matter?" –called a male from the room's sole entrance: a stone archway located right behind her. "Have you finally made your choice?"

The woman gave no response.

This lack of reply stirred the ire in the room's other occupant, his grunting as he took the chair opposite her and sat told her that much. He was young, she was aware, and the restlessness he was displaying was only strengthening her impression that he was not one who enjoyed all the hiding he had been doing, despite the fact that he had just seen some action earlier in the day.

Claudio Darlton, the last of the Glaston Knights, glared at the female that stubbornly chose to remain silent, the maroon of his uniform looking almost compatible with the hangings on the wall of the dilapidated room:

"Lady Enneagram," He said with a disposition stiff enough to merit her finally looking to him. "The emperor is _dead_."

"-And what of his death, Knight Darlton?" Nonette asked while remaining motionless but in such a way that the young male could almost feel the glare that could have been directed to him. Her voice still firm, she continued: "I sincerely doubt you would care about his death, or perhaps you would have cared more had his majesty survived?" the woman raised her head and straightened her back, for she had been slouched in a most unsightly and unwomanly manned against her chair.

And this time, she truly did glare at Claudio.

"You were _there_, so if you think this is a question of protecting the emperor, you are undoubtedly in the wrong, as you had been present and had done nothing." There was no anger, no accusation in the way she said her words, but merely a cold that left Claudio staring; it wasn't frequent that Nonette Enneagram shed her upbeat personality to show the franker and graver aspect of her nature.

"But then again, you were there to observe and gather information for us." Nonette's expression seemed to soften at these words, she getting up and beginning to pace the little room. "You cannot be truly be blamed for your inaction, for doing anything would have gotten you killed."

She moved slowly as she made her first circle of the room, her back straight yet her gait similar to one who had lost purpose with her head faced down and her hair shielding her facade.

"But I am to blame as well." The Knight of Nine continued speaking as she stopped and looked up to the banner of Britannia, embroidered on one of the red curtains that hung immediately opposite her previous place on the chair. "I had taken to long in thinking, waiting for a way to prove that Lelouch vi Britannia was not who was meant to take the throne."

Nonette Enneagram sighed.

"But such was not the case…

"_Dim drums throbbing, in the hills half heard._

"_Where only on a nameless throne a crownless prince has stirred,"_

She looked to her compatriot, who had but decided to not face her yet remained silent nonetheless while she said the lines from the verse.

"But we can no longer ignore this, nor doubt its integrity; we are too long past the time for acting." The Knight of the Round moved back to the desk and reached over the male to take her pocket book. "It is time we answer to our call as knights."

She stood back before twirling in place and making for the door; she said:

"Come, Claudio, Palace Mortem has been set aflame, and it shall be the least we can do to make sure those there may make it out of the country alive."

And as the Glaston Knight took to his feet to follow her, he heard Nonette finish the verse she had been reciting just earlier in a raspy whisper that, to he, was so unlike her that it sent a shudder through his spine…

"_Where, risen from a doubtful seat and half attainted stall, _

"_The last knight of Europe takes weapons from the wall."_

And as the room emptied of its only life, the shadows laughed at the guilt that remained with them, for so much had been lost that day that they would feast the night through.

~TtT~

_**Location:**__ The World of C_

_**Estimated Date / Timeline:**__ October 12th, 2018, day of the execution of the Instigators of the Damocles Rebellion_

_**Estimated Time:**__ Unknown_

_**T**_he emptiness had come to be something that she accepted with enthusiasm for it had been the closest to death she would ever get.

Yet, once again, there was something that tethered her to the land of the living, something that persisted to keep her wanting – needing – to walk the earth despite the temptation to simply wallow in the pointlessness of it all and remain within the void. But she could not complain; she could not resist that pull of life; for there was still more for her to do on the earth even if she sought to leave it and had been allowed. It didn't surprise her.

After all, it had been how she lived for no less then five hundred years.

But she would take these opportunities whenever she could, to simply forget and let herself float in the whiteness of her faux death and to dwell on the constant reminder of the countless betrayals she faced, the pain and torment she had unknowingly been subjected to.

To find the love of a mother she did not have…

To be given the gift she sought to possess: the power to gain the love of all around her…

To live the life her power gave her to its fullest extent, regardless of how short it may have been…

Her talk with sister Rosaline, the betrayal, the _'collecting'_ as the nun chose to call it…

Catherine felt her eyes clench shut as she drifted in the whiteness.

For it was but the beginning of her torture.

Even now, centuries later, the cycle seemed to continue. It had done so with Mao, and finally Lelouch. True, the details and settings may have been different, but the outcome did not change:

The results she had been presented with always hurt her deeply, and one could only take so much, immortality or no.

Catherine had had _enough_.

_Is the peace I wish for truly more than what I am allowed to have?_ She could almost hear herself break with her words.

Peace…

She had once thought that this was what death would achieve for her, that in death the pain her life continued to give her might be uplifted, that she may be released at least. It was why all her contracts asked for her demise as toll.

But this was not to be, and now, she is stuck in a stagnancy that was worse then timelessness and invincibility, for she had swore to the emperor that she would not curse anyone else with the burden he had to bear, that no more would it's darkness threaten another's soul.

The emperor…

Lelouch…

_Not even dead for a day, and I'm already missing him._

It was _he_ that made her struggle to wake; it was _he_ that gave her the urgency to act despite her wish to remain still. It was because of Lelouch vi Britannia, the Demon King, that she forced her eyes open to face the whiteness – the emptiness – once more. And when her gold eyes opened to face what lay before her, she saw in the fare-off distance a speck of blackness that could have not been noticed had her world been anything but white. C.C. stared at it in silent observation, watching as it slowly grew to cover the white like a cancer.

"_**So you know, Catherine, there is a little more than instructions kept within that portfolio in the drawer."**_

She remembered him telling her as they sat to dinner just the night before present.

"_**But I don't think I'll tell you what the surprise there is just yet.**_

"_**Consider it a motivation, if you will, to truly make sure you take what I leave for you."**_

"_You don't trust me?"_

She heard her own voice asking him from the darkness which was now the size of her fist.

"_**It's not that I don't trust you, C.C., but more that I would rather be certain,**_

"_**And let me indulge in a little bit of cowardice, will you?**_

"_**I think I shall be facing enough tomorrow as it is.**_

"_**But if you have any respect for me, any care left in you after I go and die tomorrow, prove it to me.**_

"_**Take the letters there, the instructions for the future, and whatever I leave behind.**_

"_**On your honor, Catherine de' Celeste, I want you to swear."**_

C.C. could feel tears welling up as she recalled the exchange in the darkness that now enveloped her completely…

"_I swear, Lelouch. For you, I swear."_

And the shadows took her to the world she loathed once more.

_The time for fear and hesitation is over._ She thought with a gasp as she felt herself jolt with the sudden heat that blazed against her lower back. _I have duties to see to, and a promise to fulfill._

_I shall mourn my loss another time._

~TtT~

_**Location:**__ Second floor hallway adjoined to the primary western staircase of the Britannia building: Palace Mortem, Edogawa ghetto, Tokyo, Japan_

_**Estimated Date / Timeline:**__ October 12th, 2018, day of the execution of the Instigators of the Damocles Rebellion_

_**Estimated Time:**__ 6:52pm, twenty-two minutes following the destruction of Palace Mortem's primary western staircase_

_**U**_pon waking, Catherine's first impulse was to sit up, regardless of the possibility of being caught in a position that would otherwise be unfavorable due to the way she lost consciousness previously. But upon seeing where she lay, the witch considered thanking the fates for – perhaps – finally smiling upon her, though her past experiences from centuries prior and even more so in the last few hours made her think otherwise.

Willing her still aching body to stand, the acting empress observed the conflagrating ruins that was the western staircase – she tried to avoid thinking about the hot hell that most certainly raged bellow it – and understood that she would not be finding her way to the hangar through there, especially if the fires continued to grow.

C.C. looked away from the destruction, looking down the short hall before her and the northern opening that eventually lead to the apartments she shared with the Lelouch over the course of the last three months. She steeled herself to face what she might see; taking in several deep breaths and praying that she might be blessed with another fortune in the coming moments.

…-praying that the series of rooms that had been both home to herself and her partner and tomb for two living people would still be intact so that she may find what she sought.

And maybe to a certain extent, so that she may remember the place and the seemingly ethereal beauty it had come to take over the last few weeks one last time.

She would not run, not until she finally held the portfolio or the envelopes inside in her hands; Catherine believed she needed this time to prepare her farewell to this place.

With each step down the short hall before the turn, she felt the heat and cold fall away, seemingly falling from attention to give way to the grim resolve she brought out when she promised Lelouch to bring about a suitable ending to all his work. It was an odd way for the despair to leave her, one she did not expect but one she did not wish to reject either.

_Perhaps I have taken another step to embracing my humanity again?_

C.C. almost felt the urge to smile when the thought came to cross her, but the aforementioned urge was fought back and outdone by the feeling that welled up when she finally made the fateful left turn to look down the longer hallway that ended with a large wooden double door.

The witch gasped – also noting the distinct lack of smoke in the air despite the fires she just left behind – upon seeing the place untouched by change of any form.

Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she walked briskly down the path while her eyes moved from side to side inspecting the paintings, sculptures, and draperies, doing her best to commit everything she laid her eyes on to memory and hoping that she would never forget what she saw earlier and would see in the near future to the many things she expected to observe in the years of her unending life.

When both her hands touched the doors, she closed her eyes and ran them up and down to feel the texture of the wood and the shape of the designs.

It was a good five seconds and a deep breath before she gathered strength into her shoulders to push the barriers apart.

Seeing the peach-walled sitting room that met her after she took her first few steps almost made her cry despite how infrequently she did it.

It was just like the hall outside that greeted her, totally untouched by the slow crumbling and burning of the rest of the building; it made her feel like she was in a dream, such was the strange air of peace and content this little apartment seemed to give her.

At some strange point in her looking at the arrangement as she passed – the cream-colored couch and chairs, the varnished coffee table, and the bookshelves leaned against two of the four walls – Catherine wondered if the fire would even reach this place.

Casting such wishful thoughts aside, for she knew that the blaze would indeed reach this sanctuary, she wrapped her hands around the bronze doorknob across the apartment entrance and twisted it.

Even their bedroom, it seemed, was adamant at remaining pure of the fires that laughed as the latter made their way up pillars, walls, and stairs.

This room, she would not bother to scrutinize as she did the two previous; the witch knew she did not need to, considering how well she had come to know it. C.C. memorized every nook and cranny of within the four-walled enclosure that she had shared with the emperor and the memories they made here during his last few days would keep the room burned in her mind for all eternity.

No more than seconds after entering the room, however, did she pull open the drawer to Lelouch's desk and pull out the portfolio.

_If earlier I had taken time to say goodbye to this place that housed me_. The empress thought as she made one last checking of the drawer she took the portfolio from. _Now, I shall let go of all this for a while, for my duty and my promise must take forefront._

Her walk was brisk, slowly picking up speed as she passed back into the sitting room before she broke into a run upon stepping on the large marble slabs of the main hallway.

~TtT~

_**I**_t had come to C.C.'s attention that the fire was unevenly spread, the groups of interlopers and arsonists having seemed to prefer locations that displayed the palace's grandeur rather than locations of strategic importance such as exits and the like. As such was the case with the south-western entrance whose fire burned through into the second floor and the witch was forced to jump over.

Lady Catherine's breathing had grown heavy, the effects of the smoke and the onset of physical exhaustion caused by her nonstop run finally catching up with her as the smoke thickened.

_Chances are, _She thought as she drew closer to the atrium at the heart of the palace. -_That I won't be able to use the central stairwell, either._

Her thoughts were only confirmed when she burst through the red and gold curtain that hung over the arch.

In the long life of Catherine de' Celeste, one that spanned well over five hundred years and riddled with more encounters with Death than could ever be conjured up by a mortal mind, she had never come close to seeing either of the two more iconic forms of afterlife that were well-known in Holy Britannia but she felt that the sight that greeted her there would have made an excellent example of Hell.

The infernal bonfire rose two stories high, fueled by whatever it was that burned from the two underground floors that joined with the main atrium after the first floor collapsed.

C.C. felt her eyes sting with the accumulated smoke in the room, the glass dome that somehow remained intact keeping any of the harmful gasses from leaking out into the night. Gritting her teeth and holding one elongated sleeve of her suit against her face, she began her run around the northern curve of the second floor, dodging fiery draperies burning, fallen columns and the occasional hole in the floor that would have dropped her to the heart of the inferno.

_How did the fire advance so far so quickly?_

Assumptions were easy to make and the speed that the fires seemed to spread could have given her a clue as to what may have caused it, but she ignored the thoughts in favor of keeping her focus on the task at hand and what physical obstacles lay before her.

She felt alive holding the portfolio close to her chest, managing to keep moving despite the chilling grip of despair that crawled and clawed at her heals and the pain brought by the heat and smoke of Palace Mortem's destruction. Purpose and drive were things she had grown accustomed to living without, that human urge that made one _need_ to live, made one _need_ to keep going regardless of the odds.

If there was one thing this farce returned to her, it was that humanity she had felt she lost oh so long ago.

Her heart beat faster as she went about the motions, a jump, a strafe to one side or another, a duck under a swinging rope of flame – it was exhilarating. Two minutes was all it took her to dash around the indoor balcony that ran the circumference of the atrium and jump over the fallen, burning beam that stopped her from entering the eastern wing.

She burst through the curtain, soot that clung to the side that faced the fires staining the white garb she wore. C.C. fell to her knees, the object she took such risks to procure falling to the carpeted stone as she clutched her throat and gave to the urge choke and cough what she had been forced to breathe – even limitedly – in that preview of Hell.

Her eyes clenched shut as she recovered, remaining on the wrists and knees as she let the code go about the work of repairing her body; she took a deep breath and savored the air that entered her lungs painlessly, knowing that it the lack of negative feeling served as a sign that she was ready to resume her attempt at returning to the hangar.

Unlike the western wing – this only had two ways in or out and those passages were safe to consider impassable to a normal human – the eastern wing of Palace Mortem enabled access to both the northern and southern wings of the building.

_My target is the hangar which is located in the northernmost point of the palace._ Wiping her mouth on the cleaner parts of her sleeve, taking the portfolio from the ground, and standing up, Catherine stared down the long hall that she knew would eventually branch into the intricate maze that the wing was. _I can either cross over into the north wing and take one of the minor staircases down to the hangar, head for the eastern stairwell at the end of this hall and run through the first floor, or take the outdoor stairs that lead to garden,_ she decided to begin her movement down the hall at a fairly brisk walk that served two purposes: the first to allow her body to prepare for another set of dashes and the second to give her a little more time to think.

_But the third option would still require me to pass the stairs at the northern wing anyway, so it is more of a choice between the two other options._

So she was mainly left with three options, two in actuality as the first of the two choices offered her an alternative in the event that she could not come down through the indoor stairs; though, if she were to simply look at the distance she would have had to travel, heading for the north wing would have been most optimal choice.

But another aspect of importance that she needed to take into account was safety.

_Where could the mobs be now?_ –was the primary question she had to ask herself as her eyes caught sight of the archway that would lead her to the north wing. She stopped as she weighed her two options while factoring in the possibility of dealing with the intruders.

Intruders she could be certain were armed and numerous.

Intruders she was certain she would not be able to defeat as she was now.

Ultimately, it had come to her understanding that it would not matter if she would encounter anyone on her way out of the palace, as it was something she had no control over.

It was a strange feeling no longer having any control over what was happening.

But she steeled herself as she finally spun on her heal into the north-bound hallway to try her luck, for in the end, she knew that her endeavor was already something she committed to the hands of the fates the moment she set out for her objective.

The lack of information and the sheer size of the place she had to traverse prevented her from making any preparations that she might have been able to squeeze in in the short amount of time she had.

Though Catherine doubted she could have been able to make such preparations had she expected the palace to be attacked so soon after the emperor's death.

With a shake of her head to break away from the train of thought that she knew that sliver of contemplation would bring her and deep breath, the empress broke into a northward run, praying in silence that she would somehow make it out of the palace without having to die or lose whatever it was Lelouch had wanted her to have from among the objects contained in the portfolio.

_On my honor, I promised; on my honor, I shall oblige._

~TtT~

_**Location:**__ Second floor outer-perimeter, north to east wing hallway of the Britannia building: Palace Mortem, Edogawa ghetto, Tokyo, Japan_

_**Estimated Date / Timeline:**__ October 12th, 2018, day of the execution of the Instigators of the Damocles Rebellion_

_**Estimated Time:**__ 7:23pm, fifty-three minutes following the destruction of Palace Mortem's primary western staircase_

_**C**_atherine could imagine curses flowing from her mouth like a waterfall as she tried to maintain her pace throughout her run to the northeastern balcony.

If despair was no longer a true issue with her since she laid her eyes on the royal apartments in the west wing earlier, frustration would be a suitable irritant for her considering the mixed basket of blessings and curses that had been dropped on her lap over the course of the past few hours.

For while majority of the western wing – for reasons that she might never fathom – remained fairly untouched by the blazing destruction, the chapel and the stairs notwithstanding, the northern wing was riddled with fires, bullet holes, and blood stains that told her that some of the intruders decided to kill everyone inside regardless of their relation to the royal family.

It turned out that the groups were indeed fairly-armed as, upon reaching the first of the many steps that riddled the north wing, C.C. was greeted with explosions and gunfire. The explosion being the destruction of the first of the many staircases that would be destroyed in the subsequent chase and the gunfire of the attackers as they attempted to shoot the empress down from the ground floor once they saw her.

She grit her teeth when she heard shouting around the corner before jumping across the opening in the hallway that lead to another set of stairs to dodge the hail of bullets that would have met her had she just run through.

They were killing anyone indiscriminately; they didn't even bother to ask her who she was, but C.C. felt it safe to assume that she was recognized by some of them, if the shouts of her name, Zero's and the emperor's was anything to go by.

Catherine didn't need to hear the explosion that erupted from the passage she had passed either; she was aware of the fact that they had started to destroy every staircase she encountered so she could not return to it. Four in total had been demolished already, the smoke she could see down the hall whenever she looked back also telling her that she could not backtrack even if the stairs were still there, anyway.

Worse yet, she could easily be certain that they would always get to the other indoor passages before her since the outer, connecting hallway twisted and turned following the odd shape of the second floor while the ground floor was spared that nuisance.

The balcony that would lead to the palace garden was her only hope, and that was all that kept her running along that route; for it was the last option she had left that did not leave her facing violent mobs and fires, both of which would not only kill her – something which wasn't truly an issue – but would destroy the portfolio that she had risked the lives of her allies trying to get as she was certain Jeremiah and the others were in a dangerous enough situation as it was waiting for her in the royal shuttle.

And so she kept on her route and methods, running through the twists and turns she encountered and trying to the best of her abilities to avoid the bullets and debris that met her every time she passed a staircase that her attackers had already gotten to ahead.

A twist of her ankle to the left, a push of both her palms against the wall to keep her steady as she made the sharp turn, and a quick slide so she could avoid the shots that flew above her when she passed the sixth connection to the ground floor thirteen minutes later.

Catherine immediately pushed herself up while trying to catch her breath, standing still so that her Code may go about its work of restoring her body again.

Seconds she waited, she waited for that tell-tale sound of splintering wood and shattering stone that would signal the destruction of another set of stairs and the mob's decision to move on to the next set which would have been the last one before she entered the eastern wing again.

But only silence deigned to entertain the witch despite her expectation of chaos to pay her a visit.

It was thirty seconds and the full restoration of her body's physical condition until silence gave way to allow chaos to enter.

The sounds of shouts and pounding boot heels told her that chaos was dressed rather differently.

C.C. realized that the interlopers were coming up to make chase directly.

Cursing silently, she broke into another all-out run, this one fueled by adrenaline, fear, and the sheer willpower she had been developing throughout the night.

The witch imagined one of the men pointing at her when she heard the calls that called out her presence, but she had managed to grab hold of one of the standing pillars and round the corner before the first shot could be fired. Trying not to lose any speed, she kept her legs moving as soon as she let go of the stone beam. She could hear the beating of their boots and shoes – or whatever it was they were wearing, she did not care – against the ground still, they were not giving up.

Baring her teeth in a way only Lelouch had ever seen her do in the last ten years, she willed her legs to move faster as the thought came to her mind:

_I shall not give up so easily, either._

She kept going without pause, willing her body to move at greater speeds at the same time doing all she could not to slow her pace any more than that which she started with, for it would do her no good to let herself be caught at all.

It several minutes later, when she finally reached the balcony that hung over fifty feet above the garden did she feel the despair that had been chasing at her heels finally latch unto her once more.

~TtT~

_**Location:**__ Second floor balcony, north to east wing hallway of the Britannia building: Palace Mortem, Edogawa ghetto, Tokyo, Japan_

_**Estimated Date / Timeline:**__ October 12th, 2018, day of the execution of the Instigators of the Damocles Rebellion_

_**Estimated Time:**__ 7:36pm, sixty-six minutes following the destruction of Palace Mortem's primary western staircase_

_**H**_er eyes were pulled at by two opposing forces: the widening brought by surprise and the narrowing of her eyes so that she may stop any of the ash from entering, her desire to gasp hindered her need to breathe in as little of the smoke as possible.

Where she should have been leaning over the balcony to see the garden she would escape to, she instead shrunk away from the second panorama of the fires of Hell that was placed before her.

The garden bellow, flowers, trees, plants and all were a sea of flames that she knew she could not cross safely to get to the runway where the shuttle was already taxiing as per her orders when she first left Jeremiah.

Catherine de' Celeste looked to her back, listening intently for the sound of running footsteps that she could be certain would be coming soon enough and contemplated the old saying regarding being caught between a rock and a hard place. She clutched the portfolio to her chest when the shouting could finally be heard over the laughing of the flames that mockingly burned around her. It was what she held that truly made her fear now, for her immortality would have held her death something of no consequence, but the plans that had to be acted upon after Lelouch's death were of utmost importance.

_In that sense,_ C.C. thought, biting down on her lower lip and taking a deep breath as she steeled herself to face never knowing what Lelouch left for her, awaiting the impromptu firing squad that would burst through the archway soon. _Perhaps, even beyond death, he is affecting his will upon the world._

She would be strong, she would somehow figure out what Lelouch wanted her to take care of for she understood the general idea of it, anyway: the world still needed to be set to rights after all the twisting it underwent in the last two years.

The witch waited, and when the five men that had gone after her up the stairs earlier, then followed by another group of ten that came from the opposite direction, she stared them down despite the fifteen gun-barrels that were pointed her way.

She was ready.

And when they pulled their triggers and let their bullets fly, she puffed out her chest and glared at them in an act of final defiance.

But the projectiles never hit home and the feeling of crippling pain never came; instead, what she heard was the sound of bullets making contact with metal after she felt the very stone that supported the balcony shake and crack under the weight that landed on it.

Then came the words of a woman as the newcomer stood from the cockpit of her knightmare frame:

"_They rush in red and purple from the red clouds of the morn,_

"…_-From the temples where the yellow gods shut up their eyes in scorn."_

Catherine gazed up at the purple cloak her savior wore, her eyes widening in surprise despite the stinging pain of the ash that intruded upon them. The color of the other woman's hair was enough to tell the witch – or rather allow C.C. to confirm – who had just arrived.

Nonette Enneagram, without allowing the fifteen aggressors time speak or react to her arrival, immediately drew a rifle out from under her cloak and rained fire on them, saying in voice so venomous the empress was certain it could kill just as effectively as the knight's gun could:

"_They rise in green robes roaring from the green hells of the sea,_

_"Where fallen skies and evil hues and eyeless creatures be;"_

~TtT~

_**A**__s earlier, Catherine could not find her words; her surprise at the question only evident in her silence as she took several seconds to continue staring at him._

_Lelouch waited without any question, only looking away and turning back to his desk two minutes later. Finally placing the book down, closing it, leaning back against his chair and letting loose a sigh that bared to the room's only other occupant all the tension and exhaustion the emperor dared not show anyone else._

"_It is not whether the killing blow will hurt, Catherine." -He stated without bothering to look at her._

_Then there was quiet again, for even then, she gave him no reply._

_Eventually, the monarch could take no more. This was not the silence either of them were accustomed to: the comfort of not having to say anything because there was nothing that needed to be said. Lelouch could feel the uncertainty that filled the air between them, so unlike what it usually was to such a point that he would bear it no longer._

_He stood up, pushing his chair back while his hands kept hold of the armrests so that the wheels may not let it move further then necessary._

_His intention was to retire for the night then, for it had seemed to he that C.C. would not give him his answer at the time._

_Even then, it seemed, that she would deny him one more answer._

_But to his surprise, she did the opposite as he found out when he turned toward the bed._

_Her head was bowed as she leaned against the emperor's chest, green hair falling like a curtain around her face as her arms hung like dead vines at her sides. Lelouch's eyes grew wide as the seconds drew past while his arms had risen and remained around her as though he were to take her into an embrace but feared doing so._

_It wasn't fear though, he knew; but whatever mental will that stopped him from holding her was broken when he felt her bare arms encircle his abdomen and the shivers that came from them._

_His brow furrowed then, worry leaking through the purple pools of his eyes when he heard her next words and the growing intensity of her shaking:_

"_The transition into death isn't something easy to describe, Lelouch." -her words were clear, her voice steady despite the softness of her whispered reply. "For I have never truly died, I cannot tell you how it would be to experience in its entirety."_

_Her hold grew tighter as the royal felt her pull him towards the bed._

_He did not resist as she pulled him down and let them lay on their sides._

"_There is some pain." -She continued, still not willing to look to his face in the same manner that he did not seem to complete his hold. "But how much pain is involved is going to depend on how willing you are – how ready you are – to part with everything." Catherine tangled her legs with his then, holding his to hers so tightly he feared she might break them._

_He drew a sharp breath instead, his arms finally closing around her as he held on for dear life; his eyes clenched shut as he brought his face down to rest on the crown of her head. The king could hold his walls up no longer, following his partner's path and finally letting his whole body tremble as his left hand mover from her naked waste to her chin and lifted her gaze to meet his own._

"_Hmm…" Lelouch hummed in affirmation after he moved his head to the crook of her neck, forcing her to let go of his torso and make herself content with placing her arms on his chest due to the depth of his back's curve._

"_Lelouch?" The uncertainty in her voice was clear._

_The emperor would not raise his head from where it lay, instead crushing her body to his before he said he next words with a quiet despair so deep and full of longing that it brought the witch into an early mourning:_

"_Then I foresee," -Said he. "-That it shall hurt a good deal."_

-The Eve of the Demon's Death

* * *

**Notes:**

**Nonette Enneagram** – Knight of Nine, one of the Knights of the Round to have not died toward the end of the series; her official whereabouts relative to the end of canon are unknown as she disappeared after Lelouch became emperor. I am making use of her character so that I may avoid using Original Characters as much as possible.

**Lepanto** – is the poem from which Nonette's verses come from in this chapter; with the exception of the first four lines which are my original work.


	5. Black Salvation

Disclaimer: I don't own Code Geass.

* * *

Pre-chapter Notes:

Greetings,

Wew, it's good to be back in business. I trust that the last six months have been fruitful for all of you?

Onward to the review responses:

**Review Responses:**

_**Chapter Two:**_

I-En-Tee-Jay – I can understand why as it _is _rather challenging portraying people in such a way that would show that they are being affected by the death of Lelouch while at the same time making them remain in-character. I've been trying to find the middle ground and I hope that I have been doing well so far.

PowerThirst – Thank you for pointing it out, and I hope that this chapter will have some improvement on that. My preferred writing style likes to put in as much detail as possible and sometimes I end up having a difficult time formatting things properly.

KiKi Hayashi – Typo corrected, and if you're willing, don't hesitate to call me on that again should it happen. I don't have a beta so I might screw myself over during my usual night-owl moments. 8D

_**Chapter Three:**_

Lord Lelouch – I apologize that it seems that the 'regular' update for this fic _is _ six months since it seems that I update regularly on June and December! But as an apology I hope that the colossal length of this update might make it up to you to some degree.

PXLight – Don't worry, I don't think you're the only one since my other stories tend to jump around a lot, too rather than following a single happening per chapter. Also, in the

event that I haven't answered your question yet as I can't recall: Catherine is C.C.

Taesica – Thanks, Shammy! I was actually rather unsure of how to approach the poem, but I felt that some of the lines would be fitting for the story (of course with due editing) and I'm glad you like it.

Merines Shinku – We'll be finding out what's inside this chapter (mwahahaha). Also, it's not really that different from the original other than the main twist which I've already added in as the part we are in the story was supposed to be the next arc (told in flashbacks) before I started the rewriting. Think of it as my rearranging the order of the arcs so that I don't get bored :D

~TtT~

With all that said, I hope you enjoy this update!

On with the show:

P.S.: actual chapter length is 10, 198 words.

* * *

_**Code Geass: Now and Forever:**_

_**Chapter Four:**_

**Black Salvation**

"_Only one currency is able to change the world._

"_Only one currency is able to force the hearts of people to truly change._

"_Only through this currency am I able to save the lives of my people._

"_And this currency is blood._

"_-My blood for victory."_

-Memoirs of Eowyn de Britannia, founder of the Holy Empire.

~TtT~

_**W**_isdom is gained by observation, reflection, and experience and those three are usually things that only the living can undertake. The dead should not see, the dead should not think, and the dead should most definitely not feel.

Yet there is sometimes a strange wisdom that only the long gone are able to grasp fully, one that the taste of nothingness is able to grant access to.

And so I say: _Let the empty dark consume all that you are, and may you find clarity in its isolated depths._

~TtT~

_**T**_he killing blow had indeed hurt.

But then again, the fact that a pinprick hurt was enough a reason to understand that a sword wound would hurt as well.

Much to the fallen emperor's chagrin, however, he had failed to brace himself for the aftereffects of the injury.

Blood welled up from the openings in his chest an mid back, quickly staining his robes and pooling beneath his feet and later the surface upon which he lay. His collapsed left lung hindering his ability to breath, and his punctured heart enthusiastically pumping blood to every place in his body that liquid wasn't supposed to, the dying male had fought the urge to vomit blood as the sensation of drowning washed over him.

The darkness that was already clouding at the edges of his vision was tempting; her swaying hips and soft embrace a level of seductive that seemed to rival his witch's.

Lelouch vi Britannia had to pose a valiant fight to suppress the urge to sigh in pained relief when he felt himself halt at his younger sister's side, the sensation of wetness inside his chest strangely fascinating and the odd dripping he felt every time he drew a breath of borrowed air comforting in its foreignness.

After he had given Nunnally the honor of his final words, the emperor let his muscles relax and his mind be free of thoughts and worries.

Shadows and light began to dance around him, with the blues of the sky and the purple of his sister's eyes mingling and fighting the shadow that was growing stronger as the seconds ticked by – the time observed by the blood that was bleeding into his lungs, dripping one drop for every second that ticked by. The fallen king tried to draw a deep breath and felt nothing but liquid life slosh against his throat instead of air.

It would not be much longer until he passed.

He tried to let go of everything that kept him there, those last slivers of instinctual will that kept people fighting to live on: The chance at seeing the peace he created, being truly reunited with Nunnally again, going back to Ashford and being with everyone – despite the adverse chances of that occurring.

…-Staying with Catherine…

_So this is what she meant would probably be painful to experience._

Lelouch fancied himself laughing then, laughing the sort of laughter that was commonly done by men that had come to a stage of deep enlightenment about the workings of life. His hands were raised and clutching his head while his eyes rolled skyward in the void that no longer held wisps of blue and purple.

He found it difficult to accept his death, not the likeliness of it but rather all the opportunities that would be lost to him because of it.

And worse still, it was more painful that these urges seemed to have stayed within the deeper recesses of his mind until the moment he was in the very arms of the shrouded horseman.

His eyes darted about as the laughter died down and Lelouch observed the mass of expansive blackness, taking in its void and lack of light; the man could not even see himself within it.

Silence usurped his thoughts after this, for the emperor could neither say nor think anything coherent – or even scarcely human as the idea sunk in.

It was a while – the diseased emperor found it difficult to identify the degree of time; whether minutes or hours – before Lelouch's mind had finally settled down enough to truly ponder the strange mystery that was before him.

The transition from life to death was almost unrealistic; the jolt of surprise coming only when the stroke of grace was made and the realization of his impending demise had really solidified before him and that happened when he was still perfectly aware of the world. How odd it was that all the shock faded to give way to panic as the darkness had encroached upon him so smoothly that the pain caused by his injuries was of no consequence.

And the emptiness that followed his duet with the reaper was a tranquil one.

There was something there, something strange and out of place about the peace that he was feeling that didn't seem right; it was tugging at the back of his mind and telling him to let go of what was left of his consciousness and let himself be pulled fully into the void: body, mind, and soul.

Even in death his instincts commanded him though, the urge to fight back and resist something he couldn't fully understand urging his mind just as powerfully as the unknown tug had been. And following the familiar, the king fought back; doing his absolute best to stay awake until a sole flaw of his character began to resurface:

He was human and so were instincts, and thus, could be worn down as time drew forward.

It was also a specific characteristic that his opponent didn't seem to have.

A second darkness began to draw over his purple eyes at that moment, one that waged war against mind rather than the first of Death that struck at his body's mind with the World of the Living. But as his mind was brought into a lockdown, he heard a voice call to him, subdued, calm, and yet ominous all at the same time saying:

"_Now that I have given you the time to ponder the deepness of your insignificant loss, why do you not join me here so that we may speak surrounded by sights less bleak?"_

Almost immediately the emperor felt his eyes shoot open, purple oculars taking in the expanse of flaming sky and the tops of gray columns that supported a nonexistent ceiling and roof, all traces of dark emptiness gone from what he saw; back brows furrowed as a sense of both familiarity and uncertainty flooded him.

"Ah," The voice that had called him just then was closer now and completely unhindered by what Lelouch could assume were metaphysical barriers. "You are finally here." Curious, the young man attempted to raise his head so that he could lay his eyes upon the speaker and the former was even more surprised to succeed doing so with ease, his neck supporting the weight of his head as the latter appendage was lifted above the ground. "I trust the transition between states of existences was a smooth change for you, Lelouch vi Britannia?"

Gray slabs of stone lead up to a cloaked figure, the black cloth hanging over his shoulders and unto the floor where it pooled around the speaker while the high collar blocked off half of the white mask he wore. His voice was clear and unobstructed, as though there had been nothing to cover his mouth as he said his words.

Sitting up and noticing that he was still clothed in his white robes – albeit the fact that they were undamaged by the sword that had killed him earlier, Lelouch cast his glance back to the stranger that was looking at him over the latter's shoulder.

"Based on prior events that have occurred to me," The king began, the same instinct that had ordered him to fight the pull of surrender earlier now telling him to understand his current situation better. "I should already be dead." He narrowed his eyes at his sole companion atop the gray stone before adding: "Would that happen to be the case, good sir?"

At this the man Lelouch spoke to turned full circle to face the latter. His white suit taking on the orange tinge of the light and the sky, the black vest and the red shirt underneath seemingly darker in the setting sun while the golden trim of his cloak and the chain that hung across his chest glinted as the light hit them; lastly, a cravat of color matching his jacket decorated his neck while a silver cross was pinned against it.

Waist-length red hair shifted as the unknown man tilted his head to one side in an expression of curiosity that the blank white façade of his mask could not provide.

"Death is a state of existence," his arms were hidden beneath the long cloak. "One _was_ and _is_ able to _be_ regardless of death or life." While Lelouch had been known to make gestures when he spoke – whether he had talked as Zero or as the emperor was irrelevant – this man before him did not move at all. The speaker was simply a talking statue with barely any life in him.

_If it was even male, of course; but if voice is anything to go by, it is._

"Does being in such a state disturb you?" The way his companion described death disturbed Lelouch more than the latter would have wanted, but whenever the emperor observed the fact that the masked man's reasoning was logical and that being dead might have affected stranger's opinions, it was more than understandable. "Surely it should not do so any longer."

Lelouch inwardly raised his eyebrows upon hearing the appending clause but managing to recall the importance of keeping outward calm, he replied: "Should it not? Is it not normal for any human being to be bothered by death – if not the state thereof?"

A porcelain chin dipped than rose, the other man's nod slow and emphasized.

"But therein lies the contradiction, emperor Lelouch vi Britannia; you are not human anymore." The speaker's voice was still as soft as it was when the king first heard the former begin talking but there was something else near the end. The way his intonation dropped as he declared what Lelouch now was sent chills up the latter's spine, the composure breaking for a short moment before the monarch blinked it away.

The masked man though, did not seem willing to give the young man a reprieve for as soon as Vi Britannia recovered his wits, the former said something that sent it back into a worse state of scatter:

"Look at the palm of you right hand, child."

It was almost like an omen for Lelouch to hear those words come from the stranger, a warning that told him of a future of ascertained torment that would last him till the end of his days.

_And if what I am now assuming is correct, that will be a day long coming._

When he first thought up the Zero Requiem, a part of him thought that his death – manner and method accounted for – was a form of punishment for all the things he had done in those two fateful years of his life on Earth, and he did his best to see it as such rather than the abrupt and painful end that he first assumed it to be.

But upon gazing down to see the maddening red of the Geass crane glaring back at him, the emperor fell to his knees and shuddered unabashedly.

And as he shook in the throes of some imagined second death, the world fell to darkness around him while a mirror image of himself rose from the void and bent down to whisper in his ear the words that shook not only his body but his very spirit as well:

"_Death is not a sufficient price to pay for all that we have done; suffer for all time, Demon King, and know that we are bound by this bird for all eternity."_

~TtT~

_**Location: **__Air over Pacific Ocean, en-route for Area One of Holy Britannia_

_**Estimated Date / Timeline:**__ October 12th, 2018, day of the execution of the Instigators of the Damocles Rebellion_

_**Estimated Time:**__ 7:43pm, approximately half an hour following the destruction of Palace Mortem_

_**A**__rea One, _Catherine thought over the name of her next destination.

The history of the continent brought about some memories of Catherine's less successful contracts, one that had not born fruit due to reasons besides the beneficiary's inability to control Geass to its full extent.

She met the promising boy while she was posing as a schoolteacher at Fredericksburg during the year 1797. The would-be revolutionary hadn't really caught her attention at the time – as was rather common with most of the other children she had been teaching – for she saw little ambition in many of them and found little reason to approach them with the contract offer.

It would be several years later that she concluded that there would be little reason for any of those children to be suitable recipients of the contract considering the lack of strife within the colony during the time period.

During her subsequent travels though, she had heard the boy's name come up several times while she had been in Virginia during the year 1803 when she saw him leading the local militia with the rank of major. She resolved then to keep an eye and ear open for news of him for if she did not find ambition or drive within the child – for compared to her two hundred years at the time, that was what he was – with the justification that despite his lack of blatant ambition, he possessed talent and that such ambition came in as time drew its course and fate dealt its hand.

The Lady Discord dealt that hand in the year 1815 when Britannia's emperor at the time: emperor Edwin des Britannia passed the Stamp Act without prior consultation with the Zar family of advisors which had been serving the dynasty since the empire's founding nearly two millennia prior.

C.C. had felt it in the air then; the seeds of dissent had been planted and all she had to wait for were the rains that would let them sprout.

Two years following, 1817, the chick she had been investing in made the first move that would earn him a contract with her: Emperor Edwin's continued disregard for the advice of the Zar and the nigh unending flow of younger member's of parliament appeals toward the insolent ruler's avarice brought about the enactment of the Townshed Acts that further increased taxation on the areas ruled by the Holy Empire at the time; such a decision caused Washington to finally enter the growing fray with his proposal of a boycott of Britannian goods, but it all came to a head a year after in 1820 when the Boston Riot occurred as an indirect result of the stationing of additional troops there due to the aggressive nature of the colony's opposition to the aforementioned act.

The set of acts were repealed but the damage had already been done; rebellion was sparked, and Catherine knew then that her opportunity would be coming soon, especially when she saw Washington's reaction to hearing the news of the Boston Riot.

1825 marked the last bit of preparation her recipient candidate needed for her to actively seek him out; George Washington was appointed Commander-in-Chief by the Continental Congress, the leaders of the rebellion.

He was ready and all she needed to do would be to establish the contract then wait for things to fall fully into place.

Despite his acceptance of the Geass and his application of it to achieve constant victories against the Holy Empire for the following four years, a twisted bout of irony caused avarice to end the war as it had begun:

With the granting of peerage as an incentive, Benjamin Franklin betrayed Washington to then Baron Roberto Zar; the latter had volunteered to 'clean up the mess that Emperor Cornelius's son had so ignorantly made,' and had soundly defeated Washington at Yorktown.

Of course, Catherine decided to cut her losses and abandon Washington in favor of hunting down another contract, but not without following the general when he was brought to Britannia to stand trial before the empire's Supreme Court under the charges of sedition and high treason.

This trial, though, also served as the event that marked the abrupt end of Edwin des Britannia's reign as he was publicly insulted by the Baron Zar prior to being ousted by the former's half-sister Maria die Britannia, the resulting scuffle ending with the deaths of George Washington, Edwin des Britannia, and all the members of parliament that supported the laws that brought about the rebellion in the first place.

C.C. held the her partner's portfolio close to her chest as she heard the shuttle doors open, the sound pulling the woman from her thoughts and forcing her to face reality. She found herself pondering the soundness of Jeremiah's judgment at deciding that opening the transport's hangar while the latter was in flight was a safe thing to do despite the fact that the aforementioned gate was not supposed to be opened anyway.

Before any of her ponderings could be verbalized however, Nonette's Knightmare extended its feet and landed atop the hangar floor with an echoing jerk that would have knocked Catherine off her place had the knight not positioned the machine's fingers around the witch so astutely.

Not really wanting to remain in the vulnerable position that was being in between the palms of a weapon of destruction, the witch swiftly vacated her de-facto seat while taking care to keep her head held high and her steps measured.

It wouldn't do her well to appear weak before strangers, despite the fact that she was quiet aware of who Nonette Enneagram was.

Catherine eyed the Knightmare kneeling before her, observing the way it seemed to differ from majority of the designs she had seen since the had first witnessed the popular machine enter the fields of battle: The way its face was almost human-like in appearance, the golden upper part of the head giving a distinctly feminine feel with the soft curves from the nose to the top of its forehead where black hair was cropped into a topknot and fell in one onyx stream to the floor; in contrast, the lower half of the head had nothing human about it, a tapered purple plate that hooked up as it got closer to the chin and the pair of red tusks that jutted out the said plate's sides almost made it appear demonic.

The rest of the Knightmare's body followed such a theme: like the upper arms smooth and lustrous while appearing deceptively weak while at the elbow turning into a jagged latticework of red and purple that led to a pair of enlarged, five-fingered claws with tips colored a disturbing shade of sanguine.

Behind her, C.C. heard a hiss which she immediately attributed to the opening of the lone door that lead to the hangar.

"Milady!" without turning from the novel machine before her, Catherine could easily identify the voice of Edmund Dantès, the young nobleman that had rather recently come under her service. "Are you alright?" The twenty-five-year-old then moved to insect his superior more closely when the witch raised her hand to keep wave him off.

"I am uninjured, viscount;" C.C. did not lift her gaze from the entry plug of Nonette's Knightmare, awaiting the soldier's emergence. "I appreciate your concern, but I believe that I shall be fine for the moment," She took note to keep her voice seem as collected as she could, not wanting to show her fatigue to either of two other occupants of the hangar. "Although if it makes you feel more secure, _doctor_, perhaps I shall allow you to check up on me once everything has finally settled in."

In the silence that served as intermission between the empress's words and the yet-to-be-said reply of Dantès, the imperials heard the distinct hiss that signaled the opening of an entry plug hatch.

Despite the distraction and lack of eye contact from the noblewoman he was addressing, Dantès made to reply: "Very well, milady; I shall be on call once you are ready to receive visitors."

Dantès waited for her reply as he kept the emerging Knight of the Round within his field of vision.

C.C. then said: "I would prefer to be left alone in the meantime, viscount Dantès;" She sent a cursory nod to the knight when the apparently older woman finally placed both feet on the steel floors of the hanger. "There are things I would like to discuss with lady Enneagram, and it would be in my best interest to discuss such things in private." The witch wasn't certain if Dantès would be offended by her sharp dismissal or unable to understand her unsaid acknowledgement of his informing her of his decision to remain on standby in case she might require his medical expertise.

She was quickly relieved of these silent uncertainties though, when he bowed to her and took his leave.

Satisfied at hearing the unseen locks of the hangar door latch into place, Catherine took this time to do what the woman before her had probably been doing since they had escaped Palace Mortem: sizing each other up. Now, C.C. was quite certain that the knight would not recognize her for what the former was; no, only Bismarck had even the slightest chance of being able to, considering the fact that Enneagram couldn't have been involved with any of Charles's and Marianne's projects during the ninety-eighth emperor's reign.

However, Catherine certainly recognized Nonette. Even though it had been a good decade since she had last laid eyes on the woman, the now Duchess Nonette Enneagram had aged gracefully irregardless of the soldier's involvement in the military: She wore her hair shorter now; no longer the waist-length it was when she and Cornelia were just entering the academy despite the former woman stubbornly opting to braid whatever part of her pale green hair she could: the little tassel hanging in front of her left ear.

"I bid you a good evening, Lady Enneagram." C.C. took the initiative, not feeling the need to take in too many of the other woman's features. "I admit that thought I had not been expecting your assistance in my escape from the palace earlier, I would like to thank you for it."

There were many facts that Catherine was aware of: starting from the general opinion the world had of her partner to the certainty that she wasn't very well-known to anyone outside of the officers of the Black Knights and those that directly served under House Britannia. Thus, it would have been expected that Enneagram not be aware of the witch's role in court and leaving the aforementioned knight unable to come up with an adequate opinion of C.C. on such sort notice to formulate a perfectly adequate reply.

The immortal, however, had been impressed when the knight took the odd greeting in stride while not even delaying her reply by more than a few seconds.

"I bid you a good evening as well, _madame_," Nonette sent C.C. a bow that betrayed neither mockery nor respect as the former emphasized the title. "I also apologize for my late arrival and inability to help you sooner."

Catherine would not let herself be moved by the soldier's apparent stoicism towards her; nodding in affirmation of the greeting, she quickly replied: "While your apology is accepted, Knight of Nine, I am surprised that you had actually bothered to come to our aid at all tonight." She leveled her golden eyes with Enneagram's silver ones, the witch's icy stare unwavering despite the former's exhaustion.

Trusting had always been among the things C.C. had most difficulty doing; taking into account her history over the course of her five hundred years of life, it wasn't all that surprising. But despite all the lies she had witnessed during her life, she had come to value the importance of trust.

Nonette Enneagram was a Knight of the Round, loyal to the crown when Charles zi Britannia had been in power.

It would not be easy to trust her.

"I was of the assumption that none of the Knights of the Round that had served during Charles's reign would be supportive of Lelouch's rule – barring Kururugi, of course."

~TtT~

_**W**_hen Nonette had departed from her faction's temporary base while riding her Knightmare: the Morgause, she had expected to evacuate officials and household helpers that had been residing within Mortem and take them Area One where they would be able to wait things out until the rest of the world had recovered its balance from the fall of Lelouch vi Britannia.

For the most part, everything had met her expectations to the end that she had been helping officials – in actually, just one official – escape the inferno that had once been the palace. The knight had been more than a little surprised, however, at finding a woman that was neither dressed in servant's uniform, noblewoman's dress, nor female's sleeping attire; in fact the woman she had found running into the balcony had been dressed in a prisoner's jacket.

That alone was strange enough, for whatever sources she had stationed within the immediate premises of the palace reported that the prisoners were kept at a different location from where Lelouch had chosen to reside during his stay in Area Eleven.

This left Nonette contemplating several things: The woman had not been present among the persecuted scheduled to be killed that afternoon, and her informants never mentioned any type of security vehicle that was commonly used for the transfer of prisoners enter the palace grounds over the course of the last few months.

But those points added up to very little, only confirming that the girl was not among the rebels, but possibly a personal prisoner of the emperor.

Unfortunately, she had been thrown for a loop when she heard the male from earlier – Dantès, if she so recalled correctly – speak to the younger girl with the sort of reverence reserved for those of higher standing.

The actual evidence was there, and Nonette knew that regardless of whether the girl before her had been a captive of the Demon King at some point, it was also apparent that the latter held a certain amount of power within the household.

The question she was posed just served to seal the deal; to have the loyalty of a Knight of the Round to the emperor questioned was usually grounds for great: commonly the charging of either the accuser or the accused of high treason.

Nonette found herself insulted at the accusation; she had always considered herself fiercely loyal to the crown, but the knight also admitted to the validity of the posed question considering the fact that his majesty had just been killed today without her or any of her forces being of assistance.

With this thought keeping any negative, instinctual reactions at bay, Nonette attempted to asses the woman before her further, wondering why that trace of anger came with the query if the younger female had been a prisoner of the late emperor.

She was a tiny thing, a little over a full head shorter than Nonette with tiny hands and feet; a richer shade of green hair falling to her waist and golden eyes that glinted in both superiority and confidence. It all begged the question: Who is she?

"I am loyal to the crown, madame, not who wears it;" After the lengthy pause between question and reply, the knight gave her answer. "As long as a rightful heir to the throne leads the Holy Empire, I will serve under that person's rule." Nonette knew she was gambling, professing where her loyalties lay to a person who – as far as the Knight of Nine was concerned – had questionable affiliations, but despite her cheerful demeanor outside of work, the duchess was not fond of having her beliefs questioned and she was known to act accordingly when they were.

The madame remained silent for the first few seconds after hearing Nonette's reply, deigning to stare at her with those golden eyes while one emerald brow rose in curiosity.

"Loyalty is always best proven by actions as opposed to words, lady knight. Just today his majesty was slain, and when his body was brought to me by Jeremiah Gottwald, I did not hear of your being there to help his lordship." Nonette observed the younger woman's jaw clench as the latter spoke of the assassination that took place earlier today. The madame turned away, her fist seeming to clench under the long sleeves of her coat. "Why come to our aid now, when our leader is no longer with us?"

When the madame finished speaking, the knight's brows rose as the latter's eyes opened wide at hearing the former's words.

_Jeremiah is here?_ Nonette wasn't sure if she should have been as surprised as she felt, considering she had learned of Jeremiah's connection to the late ninety-ninth emperor months ago, even preceding the Damocles Rebellion. But Jeremiah's presence served to present another fact: In all of the years that Nonette had been an acquaintance of Jeremiah Gottwald, she had admired his nigh undying loyalty, which was as deeply-rooted in his character as it was in hers.

_If Gottwald is here, then everyone in this ship is a friend of the empire._

Of that Nonette was certain.

The second fact that the knight then deduced from the words spoken by the madame was that Jeremiah had brought his majesty's body to _her_ when the remains had been recovered; it was considered practice among Britannia's nobility that when remains of any lord were found, they were presented to the person closest to the aforementioned position.

Based on what information Nonette had collected regarding the emperor's household, the death of the Knight of Zero, Kururugi Suzaku should have made Gottwald the acting leader, despite this, the last had presented the master's remains to the person Enneagram was facing now and that told the female knight one thing:

She, Nonette Enneagram, the essential prodigal knight of the Holy Empire, was facing a younger woman that quite possibly answered to only Emperor Lelouch himself.

In light of this revelation – yet still unsure of the type of respectful gesture to present to the apparent lady before her – the duchess opted to perform the safest type of salute towards a noble in higher favor: she knelt with her right palm over her heart and her head bowed as she stammered her apology.

"I humbly ask for your forgiveness with regards to my previous lack of respect, milady, as I was not aware of your position before now."

With eyes downcast the way they were, Nonette was unable to observe her lady's reaction to the sudden apology besides the notable silence that followed the former's own statement.

It would be a full minute before the woman she would come to refer to as Lady Catherine of House Britannia had deigned to speak out a message that she had never expected to hear.

"Stand, _Knight of Zero_;" The girl's voice held the kind of commanding nature that she would have not expected of a sixteen-year-old; it was like the girl was a queen already. "For though your loyalty has not yet acted in his majesty's interest, your words have shown an enthusiasm few have displayed." The clicking of heels against steel plate caused the knight to look up and gaze at the leaving form of her mistress as the latter continued: "And due to the fact that you can no longer prove yourself to the emperor, prove yourself to me instead and perhaps I shall honor you with the sight of things very few shall ever witness so closely."

The door then closed behind her, leaving Nonette to her contemplations, and as the resolve to serve this nameless woman began to grow at the bottom of her heart, Duchess Nonette Enneagram stood as she recited a verse from a poem that she loved so:

"_She shakes the peacock gardens as she rises from her ease,_

"_And she strides among the treetops and is taller than the trees,_

"_And her voice through all the garden is a thunder sent to bring_

"_- Black Azrael and Ariel and Ammon on the wing."_

A bow, then, towards the door that the madame left through; and with the flash of a determined gaze before following, she said:

"Yes, your majesty."

~TtT~

_**Location: **__Royal shuttle cockpit, air over Pacific Ocean, en-route for Area One of Holy Britannia_

_**Estimated Date / Timeline:**__ October 12th, 2018, day of the execution of the Instigators of the Damocles Rebellion_

_**Estimated Time:**__ 8:01pm, approximately six minutes following the arrival of Nonette Enneagram at the Catherine's shuttle._

_**I**_t was in times like these – where he was forced to work for longer than most others would have deemed reasonable and required to work harder than most others would have deemed sane – that Jeremiah Gottwald was thankful of his being part machine; he could work longer hours and tire less easily, and complete tasks that would have required the cooperation of several other people to see to.

But even then, he was still partially human and that meant that he was still bound by certain limits.

Since becoming a cyborg over a year ago, Jeremiah had never been exposed to the culmination of physical, emotional, and mental stress that he had just had to deal with over the course of the past week. Beginning with the final preparations for the Zero Requiem's finale to dealing with his master's death – both the anticipation of and the aftershock of such an event – and finally having to help everyone living in Mortem get out alive and making it to the prime Imperial Residence before anyone decided to pursue.

Simply enumerating everything in his head brought a sigh out of the man, and he struggled to keep his attentions on the multiple screens and readings being presented before him from the beeping and blinking panel on the dashboard.

Satisfied with what he had found, the knight allowed his head to against the chair's back and sighed again; at last they were far enough from Area Eleven that he could let the auto-piloting system take his place.

No longer having to worry about keeping his eyes on the figurative road, Jeremiah Gottwald trained his gaze across the aforementioned panel, eventually passing over the screen that served as visual output for communications with outer ships.

He was more than a little worried when he had been forced to leave the hangar because the entryway threatened to be barricaded with burning debris, thereby leaving C.C. trapped inside the palace with no way of immediate escape from the hostile province once the night had passed.

For all that Gottwald knew: his lady Catherine's ability to take care of herself and get things done, he knew that it was important that none of the household be separated from the group for the sake of their safety and the safety of the plan.

But still, lady C.C. had managed to prove herself well capable of showing up once she felt that it was a good time for her to do so, and he did his best to remind himself of that as he was preparing to take flight while leaving Lady Catherine behind inside the burning palace.

Of course, this didn't mean that he wouldn't welcome a more assured way of getting Lelouch's partner to safety.

Strangely enough, this wish of his had come to reality when he received a sudden transmission from an un-affiliated Knightmare bearing the identification name 'Morgause.'

Much to his surprise, it was someone that he hadn't spoken to since their graduation from Britannia's Military Academy: Duchess Nonette Enneagram, the Knight of Nine.

She had queried him on whether there were any more people trapped within the palace and then requested permission to enter the hangar and drop the rescued persons off once she had saved them. It was at this point that Jeremiah found himself appreciative of the shuttle's odd design of having the cockpit's visual transmitter only function one-way and thereby preventing Nonette from seeing his face or even recognizing him.

He wasn't in the mental disposition to deal with the fact that she had been the last batch-mate of his from his past that he had seen or heard off since Princess Cornelia.

It was one of the furthest things from a nice thought to have, believing that there were only three or four of his generation left serving under the Holy Empire, and if possible Jeremiah didn't want to think about it any more than he could.

Allowing another sigh to escape him before getting up, Gottwald decided that it would be wise for him to get some rest before he was called to duty again, regardless of how little of the said rest he could get. He considered himself fortunate that his quarters for the duration of the trip were so close to his current workstation – just next door, in fact – as he took the seven steps required to get to the one of the two doors that led out of the room: The first, the one located at the very center of the wall that lead to a long hallway and the second that lead to his room.

Opening the door and entering the new enclosure, his eyes landed onto the room's other occupant; he nodded to her and said:

"Good evening," He told the young woman sitting on the wooden chair partnered with his desk. The room had a remarkably un-technological feel to it despite the fact that it was located in one of the empire's most-advanced transports. Perhaps this had been done to relieve the captain of the feeling of being enclosed inside a metal box all the time, but Jeremiah discovered himself to fatigued to be bothered with such contemplations. "I trust that the earlier parts of our flight weren't too rough for you, lady Alstreim?"

The petite, pink-haired teen cast her cherry eyes up from the little machine she always carried around to look at him. She tilted her head to one side in apparent thought, making Jeremiah believe that she wasn't certain of the right thing to say in such a situation.

It was that or he was to assume that she wasn't comfortable with being cordial with someone she had considered an enemy just a few months before.

Ultimately, she sent him a reply in the form of a small nod that came with the words: "I bid you a good evening as well, lord Gottwald;" She spoke as though whispering to him. He observed then how quiet the room was besides their soft-spoken conversation. "And no, the earlier parts of the flight weren't too rough for me, but that is considering the fact that I am more accustomed to the turbulence of a Knightmare in flight."

Gottwald could think of no better response to such a statement besides sending the girl a voiceless nod. He allowed the silence to sink to a comfortable level as he then decided to lay down on the bed while she deigned to continue her perusing of her gadget's – it was a camera-phone if he could recall correctly – contents; it's soft beeping noises and the sounds of their respective breathing the only thing breaking what should have been an awkward, if slightly oppressive, silence and of that the male knight was grateful for.

Eventually, another biological need took hold of Gottwald and he decided to voice this out in consideration of Alstreim's own bodily state:

"Do you happen to be hungry, miss Alstreim?" He leaned against his arms so he could look at her properly as he said this, his visible eyebrow raised in query. "I think I shall go down to the mess to get a bite; perhaps you would like me to bring you something?" Jeremiah knew that it would be unwise of him to bring her out of his room as someone might catch sight of her and report her presence in the ship to Dantès who might then report it to lady C.C., or perhaps even the lady herself.

He did not want to explain the Knight of Six's presence as of yet in light of what had transpired today.

Alstreim, it seemed, had already considered her answer as he was engrossed in his own contemplations and gave him an answer just as he had begun to pay attention to the world around him again: "No thank you, sir."

Gottwald then stood up and straightened his outfit as he acknowledged her answer: "Of course; still, if you are feeling tired – and I am rather sure you are – you are welcome to take the bed." He nodded in the direction of the bed he just got up from. "I don't think I will be using it much during the course of the trip." It was only half-truth of course, as he knew that they were figuratively out of dangerous waters for the time being and he finally had time to get some shut-eye, but he doubted she would be aware of this fact.

He was already at the door when Alstreim spoke again, stopping him just as he was about to turn the knob and reenter the cockpit to take the other door into the hallway:

"Wait," She said, her voice no longer the whisper it was earlier. "There's been something I've been meaning to ask you, lord Gottwald." The male froze then this statement was presented to him, knowing full well what questions she wanted to ask and what their asking would entail.

Jeremiah let go of the knob and turned fully to face her before answering: "Ask away, miss."

He was sure that she noted the slight steel in his stare as she met his eyes; she was measuring him up and preparing what words to use rather carefully.

He watched as she snapped her phone shut and set it atop the desk before raising her knees to her chest and hugging the aforementioned appendages closed to her in a fetal position. Resting her chin on her knees, she took a deep breath and posed her question:

"Why did you let me escape with you after I followed you back with the emperor's body?" There was another deep breath before she shook her head, following up the first question with another one that had troubled her just as much as the first one had: "Not only that, but you had spared my life at Damocles when you had every chance to take it. Why? Why do it? Why me?"

Gottwald gave pause at the presented questions, wanting to take his time formulating a logical explanation for an irrational action. He could most certainly admit such a fact to himself, his taking in of sparing of Anya in the heat of the battle months ago and his taking her in just hours ago were irrational in the sense that they had been enemies and enemies did not come to each other's aid in such situations.

But sometimes even irrationality and madness followed some rhyme or reason, as difficult to find those reasons may be and Jeremiah hoped that he was capable of unraveling the mystery for both their benefits.

"Perhaps," He began, trying to get himself in the rhythm of making a convincing speech that both of them would believe. Gottwald sat himself down on the bed and rested his elbows on his knees before continuing: "You may not believe it, but I do have a sense of Honor in me. I found little reason in allowing you to die a pointless death by leaving you inside the palace when we heard that it had been set on fire. As soon as I got to the hangar and began preparing the ship, I had told Dantès to take charge while I ran back to my room to get you." He stopped speaking for a few seconds, eyeing her intently with his visible brow raised once more. "Though I am forced to ask what brought on your desire to follow me – an obviously loyal follower of the emperor – back to the palace in the first place."

Alstreim closed her eyes after he asked her this; appearing to be asleep while her knees supported her head as she sat.

"Maybe I'm just like you, lord Gottwald;" The girl replied, her eyes still closed. "Maybe I just do things while not knowing why I do them, which is also contradictory to my being like you." She took a deep breath while still keeping her visage's outward composure. "I do not know; I haven't been acting on rational thought very much since you gave me my memories back at Damocles."

Once again, the male found himself staring at her in fascination, surprised at the fact that she as well had been driven to him by lack of proper reasoning just as he had been driven to help her by such.

He scoffed quietly at the irony, continuing with his explanation:

"Sparing you had been partially caused by guilt or perhaps pity," His answer caused her eyes to snap open and her pink eyebrows to shoot up. "When I found out that you were rendered consistently incapable of recalling all the things that happened to you, I felt that you had been living a life that lacked any sort of fulfillment for you could not recall anything that you had achieved.

"Perhaps I had not been able to bring myself to take the life of someone that had experienced so little. But really, I do not know. Maybe we _are_ the same in that aspect, Miss Alstreim."

Her brows lowered in satisfaction at hearing his reasoning behind the presented answer to her second question. She no longer looked as surprised and Gottwald felt that he even noticed a bit of empathy there; it was difficult for him to tell for certain. Alstreim neither asked him any more questions nor asked for further elaboration on his motives and the pair lapsed into a peaceful silence that – this time – was not intruded upon by the labored breaths of a tired man or the incessant beeping of a phone's keypads.

Eventually though, it had come to a point that Jeremiah impulsively asked Anya a question that had popped into his head approximately three minutes into the quiet they had settled into:

"It _is_ over you know, the rebellion." He didn't need to see her nod in agreement to know that she was aware of this fact as it should have been inside her head since she had been incarcerated months ago. "With that said, what do you plan to do after all this is done? I doubt you'll still need to – or even want to for that matter – be a knight for the empire."

He saw her shoulders rise then fall slowly before her voice rang out through the silence: "I'm not certain as being a knight is all I've known for the last ten years. I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I wasn't needed for that sort of thing any longer." Jeremiah considered this reply, instinctually wondering if she would still follow him as she was doing now after events succeeding the requiem had finally settled down.

Should he make the offer?

"Though I am unsure of what you may think of this, but perhaps you might like to stay with me while you think about your plans after this is finished?" He saw her head tilt to one side despite the fact that her eyes still remained closed. "I know that this may seem unbelievable coming from a stranger, but since it seems that we have both been acting on irrational impulse as of late, perhaps figuring this out together would be for our mutual benefit? Although you will be stuck with me before you can exercise your power over that choice as I still have duties to attend to, and you won't be able to leave Palace Britannia till I am discharged."

If she had been considering this earlier, that last line certainly stopped her from continuing to do so now.

"-Duties to attend to?" She looked at him with her cherry eyes. "What would be there to do with the emperor dead?"

"Even if he is dead," Gottwald replied to her. "The empire still needs to be run, and his majesty had taken great care to leave instructions on how things are going to be handled should he pass on earlier than intended."

She was silent for a few seconds.

"Are you going to be the one to carry these things out?" Alstreim asked him. "I know of no other heirs to the throne besides Shneizel or Nunnally and I know that neither of them would be designated Lelouch's successors."

Jeremiah shook his head to her assumption, saying: "Not I, but Lady Catherine."

Anya's brows furrowed together at the unfamiliar name.

"Lady Catherine? I have never heard of such a person before."

Their eyes met after she said this, Gottwald deciding to send her a slightly mischievous smirk during the course of the one second silence that passed over them before replying:

"You will meet her in due time, Miss Alstreim, considering the fact that she is going to be your host during your stay with me at Palace Britannia."

She nodded in acceptance of his answer and both male and female fell into another strangely comfortable silence as the subject came to a close.

Five minutes later, Jeremiah stood up and stretched his arms while taking slow steps toward the door, saying:

"Now, I'd say that I'm feeling even hungrier after all this business with escaping a burning palace. I'll be in the mess getting something to eat; would you be alright if I brought you something as well? I know that you said that you didn't have much of an appetite but I would feel much better if you ate something considering the fact that you probably haven't eaten anything since this morning before your supposed execution."

He watched Anya remained silent for a few seconds, really considering his offer now as opposed to her immediate declining minutes earlier; her eyes searched his in an attempt to understand why he was so insistent on her eating. As though finding an answer, she later sent him a shallow nod and finally said in reply:

"I wouldn't mind the meal but if it is alright with you I would prefer not to dine alone tonight."

To this request he bowed his head and turned around, not showing her the slight smirk on his face.

"Of course," his voice was laced with a lighthearted mockery that he was surprised to hear from himself. "I shall be back with your supper, milady Alstreim."

And he was off, his liege's recent passing and the sudden reminder of the fact that he was one of the last of his generation in the military of Britannia the furthest thing from his mind.

~TtT~

_**T**_he world weighs down upon you, yet duty gives you not the opportunity of showing weakness.

Take this short reprieve, then, to gather your wits before resuming your earlier course.

But make no mistake; _stand you must and stand you shall when the time demands your action once again._

~TtT~

_**Location: **__Catherine de' Celeste's quarters in the royal shuttle, air over Pacific Ocean, en-route for Area One of Holy Britannia_

_**Estimated Date / Timeline:**__ October 12th, 2018, day of the execution of the Instigators of the Damocles Rebellion_

_**Estimated Time:**__ 8:10pm, approximately fifteen minutes following the arrival of Nonette Enneagram at the Catherine's shuttle._

"_**A**__narchy is watching us from the skies above; like the Lady Discord, he awaits my demise like carrion bird awaiting its next meal._

"_If you are reading this letter, Catherine de' Celeste, then the meal has been prepared and both he and his lady are diving in for the feast._

"_What I need you to do is to make the most of the noise that come when those two eat and while the world falls enamored by the uproar, you must take the world's tunics and walking sticks while it is unawares so that the world may be forced to pay you for loaning yours._

"_But bear in mind that time is not something that you have; the carapace consumed by those two creatures will not last forever and thus they, too, will screech silence._

"_You have one hundred days to do what must be done._

"_Recall that you promised me your cooperation in this, and I ask that you do this in my unmentionable name._

"_And if you are not my Catherine, then consider yourself fortunate enough to be privy to these words, and I pray that you take the contents of this letter to your grave._

"_So sayeth Vi Britannia."_

As C.C. put down the letter, she mused at how similar Lelouch and Charles were no matter how vehemently the former denied any such similarities in public; the witch could still recall the times that ninety-eighth emperor had been poetically mysterious in her presence, and the ninety-ninth sovereign shared his father's talent for conveying things without saying them outright.

Lelouch, however, did admit the similarity to her once, albeit in privacy of their shared quarters.

Catherine sighed as she put the first letter – the portfolio contained four envelops and an address book – on the desk, mentally analyzing the letter's contents.

Prior to opening the letter, C.C. thought that Nunnally would take power quickly following Lelouch's passing while the former would simply work in the background.

Contrary to that initial assumption, this short composition told her to do something rather different from what she had first expected: Lelouch wanted her to take direct command of the empire, and while this was something that Gottwald and many of the people in the shuttle had apparently expected her to do considering her obvious closeness to the late ruler, it was not an outcome she had ever imagined.

While she was appreciative of his apparent confidence in her very rarely displayed abilities, Catherine couldn't help but question Lelouch's judgment on the matter. And as she tried not to think of the fact that he had died just earlier that afternoon, the witch slumped into her chair with one arm hanging down and the opposite hand covering her face.

The problems that she would face by being given this role would be quite numerous indeed.

The first being the fact that the already few that knew of her existence barring the people inside the vehicle she was in were already dead. This would prove to be a problem in the fact that it would reduce her credibility as Lelouch's successor in the eyes of the court, for how could she be capable of running the Holy Empire without knowing its ins and outs?

It would have been just like Marianne, only worse.

Marianne vi Britannia had been wife of Charles zi Britannia, and she had even been declared his prime consort.

Catherine? She wasn't even married to Lelouch despite the servants' constant referring to her as 'queen.'

This would prove to be a problem and it needed to be solved immediately as it would be from the solving of this issue that all the other solutions would come.

"Damn you Lelouch," The woman began muttering before turning to lean on her right and bringing her knees to her chest. "Had you been intending to drop this duty on me this whole time?" C.C. felt her jaw clench in frustration before she continued. "Besides, where do you expect me to find the kind of influence needed to keep Britannia on a leash?" She immediately reached toward the black, leather-bound address book and threw it across the room to where it landed on her bed.

Catherine grunted: "Just about all the contacts inside that thing are either dead or disloyal; there's no one there that would help me because they knew you because they're either afraid of the consequences or they can't even make the necessary decision anymore."

She felt herself snarl and saw herself reach for the collection of four letters. C.C. felt as though she were in a dream, not really in full control of herself at that point while the familiar chill from Palace Mortem crept up her spine again while she watched herself from afar doing things she didn't really want to act on.

The witch had already held the three letters in her hand, not really noticing the odd heaviness of one of them despite supposedly being paper.

Although, she did notice the distinctive – if only slightly muffled – clink of metal hitting metal when one of the envelopes hit the wall to her far left; there was a light jingle that she heard when the said envelope fell to the floor.

She could not move; she refused to, seemingly unbelieving of what she just heard and what her mind was suggesting to her. Why had she not noticed the odd weight when she first brought the letters out of the portfolio? Why did she only notice it now when she had once again allowed herself to contemplate running away like she had done all those hundreds of times with her previous contacts.

C.C. could admit it to herself now, even after Lelouch she felt that urge to run when things would no longer be beneficial for her; old habit died hard.

_I am quite possibly losing what little of my sanity is left._

It was a full minute before she moved to pickup the envelope.

The additional weight would have been negligible to anyone besides herself, but the mental burden even contemplating the possible contents of this container seemed to make it heavier in Catherine's mind.

Her thumb pressed against the bulge, feeling it sink when two of the objects inside moved apart.

She fell to her knees as she immediately opened the letter, her shaking hands causing some of the contents to slip out and fall to the floor.

C.C. stared at the pieces of gold before her, rings both of them: one about as thick as the nail on her pink finger was wide with three rosette-shaped onyx pieces reflecting the little light that came from her lampshade on the desk.

But its importance was dwarfed by the second ring.

It was plain of everything besides its golden glint, about as nondescript as any sort of ring can get. But it had been its simplicity that caught her eye; something she hadn't thought of ever receiving since she had actually been sixteen years old over five hundred years ago.

Her hands reached out, hesitant; almost afraid to touch the two pieces left to her by the Demon King. She touched them, felt their weight, confirmed and reveled in the reality of them.

It was then that she felt the courage to reach into the letter and unearth its two remaining contents: two folded pieces of paper.

Catherine felt impatience grip her as she opened the larger one, immediately recognizing it after all her experience with forging legal documents during her affiliation with the Black Knights.

Lelouch had already filled out all the necessary information, even managing to produce the minister's name and signature.

Only her signature was lacking to legally bind the document.

The date on the piece of paper read the fifth of May.

For all intents and purposes, signing the dotted line would officially mean that she had been Catherine ce' Britannia for the past half-year.

Her left hand rose to cover her mouth while the certificate and the rings were held in her right. Retrieving her pen, she signed her birth name – something she hadn't done since losing what she considered her humanity.

She never noticed the tears streaming down her cheeks; no, she was too preoccupied.

Placing the marriage certificate on her desk and putting on what were apparently her engagement and wedding rings, C.C. took out the tiny slip of folded paper that was the envelope's last treasure. Inside it was a note, reading:

"_Forgive me?"_

On the surface, it was an apology. Underneath, it meant so much more.

The damn broke then.

And Catherine ce' Britannia, ninety-ninth empress of the Holy Empire, clutched her left hand to her forehead and wailed sonorously at the loss of her husband.

* * *

**Notes / References:**

**Eowyn - **According to Britannian history, Eowyn was its first king following the founding at 0ATB.**  
**

**Calendar** - It should be noted the calendar used in Code Geass is specified with A.T.B. or _"Ascension Throne Britannia"_ which begins fifty years prior to the calendar we currently use today, hence the fifty year offset.

**George Washington** – I decided to make use of his suggested connection to C.C. to add a little more to her back-story and for my own evil purposes, allow me to begin introducing one of the more prominent roles in the story.

**Lepanto** – Once again, I have used it as the poem recited by Nonette Enneagram during her scene.

**Azrael **– Azrael is the Angel of Death according to Christian beliefs. (I feel oddly distant from my religion with the way I say this.)

**Ariel **- Archangel Ariel is the angel affiliated with the elements, and in some cases the angel of wrath.

**Ammon** – (I have not found any references for this name; although I would appreciate if any of you found such a reference.)

* * *

**Post-chapter Notes:**

Wew, this one was a monster to write, six months fighting writer's block, dealing with real life, and doing the necessary research for this chapter while wrestling with the rendering of the entire outline.

At least I have this ten-thousand word update to show for it.

What do you think of the title? Does it seem to match the content of the chapter?

Well, I hope you enjoyed the read, and I hope that you are kind enough to leave this exhausted male a review or several.

Sincerely,

_**Toph the Trickster**_


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